iMni  um^ 


\  TUmE  1 


NEW   CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 


New  Churches  for  Old 

A  Flea  for  Community  Religion 


BY 

JOHN   HAYNES   HOLMES 

Minister   of 

THE      COMMUNITY      CHUKCH      OF      NEW      YORK 

Author  of  "  New  Wars  for  Old/'  "  Religion  for 
Today/'  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,   MEAD   AND    COMPANY 

1922 


H^ 


COPYRIGHT    1922 
BY   DODD,    MEAD    AND    COMPANY,    INC. 


Printed  in  the  U.  8,  A, 


wc'A-^ 


TO 

Harvey  Dee  Browk 

AND 

JoHK  Herman  Randall 

my  colleagues  in  the  work  of 

The  Community  Church  of  New  York 

this  book 

18  affectionately  dedicated 


506b  J- 


AGRIC.  DEPT.    ffi'^- 


PEEFACE 

Many  books  are  written  these  days  on  the 
churches.  All  of  them  recognize  and  lament  their 
present  pitiable  plight.  Most  of  them  seek  no 
cause  other  than  the  materialism  of  the  age  and  a 
certain  failure  of  the  churches  to  keep  pace  with 
knowledge  and  social  needs;  and  offer  no  remedy 
other  than  a  general  exhortation  to  the  people  to 
remember  the  importance  of  religion,  and  to  the 
churches  to  bring  their  beliefs  and  methods  up  to 
date.  The  futility  of  these  books  is  itself  convinc- 
ing evidence  of  the  collapse  of  organized  religion  in 
our  time. 

The  present  volume  is  concerned  neither  with 
lamentations  nor  exhortations.  Its  purpose  is  not 
to  bring  comfort  to  churches  as  they  exist  today. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  written  in  the  deliberate  con- 
viction that  these  churches  as  organizations  are  an 
intolerable  interference  with  the  program  of  modern 
life,  and  are  therefore  to  be  transformed  or  replaced 
as  speedily  as  possible;  that  Protestantism  in  all 
its  forms,  both  orthodox  and  liberal,  is  as  dead  a 
religion  today,  and  therefore  as  subversive  a  social 
influence,  as  was  medieval  Catholicism  in  the 
fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries ;  that  we  are  living 
in  an  age  when  new  religious  forces  are  everywhere 

vii 


yiii  PREFACE 

emerging  into  conscious  life,  and  therefore  should 
prepare  for  the  coming  of  a  new  reformation.  In 
justification  of  this  position,  this  book  undertakes 
to  present  (1)  an  analysis  of  the  situation  today, 
both  inside  the  churches  and  out;  and  (2)  a  con- 
structive program  for  the  organization  of  new 
churches  to  supplant  the  old. 

The  program  which  is  outlined  in  its  more  imme- 
diate aspects  in  chapters  eight,  nine  and  ten,  is 
based  on  the  principles  now  being  worked  out  in 
what  is  coming  to  be  known  today  as  the  community 
church  movement.  These  principles  are  used  and 
commended  not  in  any  sense  as  final ;  indeed,  they 
are  interpreted  in  this  book  in  radical  terms  which 
are  likely  to  be  acceptable  to  few,  and  have  been  put 
into  practice  by  none,  of  the  more  than  four  hun- 
dred community  churches  already  established  in 
this  country.  This  movement  is  an  experiment,  an 
adventure  of  faith ;  at  the  best  only  a  splendid  first 
step  away  from  Protestantism,  toward  the  new 
democratic  religion  of  the  future.  As  such,  how- 
ever, it  is  the  most  significant  phenomenon  in  the 
religious  world  today,  and  the  inevitable  starting 
point  for  the  discussion  of  any  adequate  program 
of  reform. 

It  should  be  carefully  noted  that  this  book  deals 
primarily  with  churches,  and  not  with  religion. 
Religion  is  discussed,  but  exclusively  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  problem  of  its  social  organization. 
This  standpoint  is  fundamental ;  but  involved  with 
it  are  certain  more  private  and  personal  aspects  of 


PREFACE  ix 

spiritual  experience,  which  are  not  to  be  ignored. 
These  are  omitted  here  not  because  they  are  not 
known  to  exist,  or  not  recognized  as  important,  but 
because  they  do  not  affect  in  any  way  the  forces  of 
change  which  are  now  at  work.  Suggestion  will  be 
found  that  these  aspects  of  the  religious  life  must 
be  given  place  in  new  churches  exactly  as  in  old. 
In  closing,  it  may  be  said  that  this  book  repre- 
sents not  only  the  thought  and  hope  of  a  single 
man,  but  also  the  experience  of  a  church — the 
Community  Church  of  New  York  City.  For  none 
of  the  ideas  herein  set  forth  is  this  institution  to  be 
held  responsible.  But  that  I  have  thought  along 
these  lines,  and  had  opportunity  to  try  my  thoughts, 
is  due  entirely  to  the  courage  and  faith  of  the  people 
who  have  sustained  me  as  their  minister.  In  spirit, 
at  least,  this  book  is  theirs  more  than  it  is  mine. 
It  is  only  fitting  that  I  should  close  this  prefatory 
word  with  public  acknowledgment  of  my  appreci- 
ation and  gratitude. 

J.  H.  H. 
October  1,  1921. 


FOREWORD 

Three  months  after  the  text  of  this  book  was 
finished,  and  at  the  very  moment  when  it  was  being 
placed  on  the  printing  presses  for  publication,  there 
came  to  America  from  a  distinguished  churchman 
across  the  sea.  Bishop  Nicolai  of  the  Greek  Catho- 
lic Church  of  Serbia,  a  call  for  just  such  a  new 
organization  of  religion  as  is  described  in  the 
following  chapters. 

Starting  from  the  same  premise  upon  which  the 
argument  of  this  book  is  built — that  "Christianity 
is  dying  in  the  world" — ^the  great  Bishop  asks  if 
America  ^^can  not  give  birth  to  the  church  which 
will  be  so  broad  that  all  humanity  can  hear  its 
promises,  find  its  comfort,  realize  its  perfect  Christ- 
like reasonableness.  .  .  .  Let  those  of  you  who 
find  existing  churches  narrow  and  cramping,"  he 
cries,  "build  one  which  shall  be  broad  and  will  not 
cramp !  Forget  denomination  and  remember  Jesus 
Christ.'' 

I  believe  that  the  community  church  movement, 
as  described  and  justified  in  this  book,  is  an  answer 
to  Bishop  Nicolai's  appeal.  I  present  his  noble 
words  as  a  Foreword  to  what  I  have  written,  that 
my  readers  may  know  that  the  world  is  ready  for 
this  answer,  and  will  die  if  it  be  not  heard . 

J.  H.  H. 
xi 


xii  FOEEWOED 


WILL  AMEEICA  WATCH  CHEISTIANITY 
DIE? 

Bishop  Nicolai  of  the  Greek  Catholic  Church 
of  Serbia 

As  a  moral  agency  the  Christian  Church  is  func- 
tioning badly.  Humankind,  rendered  emotionally 
and  psychologically  receptive  by  the  tremendous 
mental  and  moral  experiences  of  the  war,  is  not 
turning  to  the  Church  for  its  comfort.  When 
yearning,  stimulated  minds  reach  out  for  comfort 
in  religion,  only  to  find  that  the  religions  are 
divided  against  themselves,  those  minds  draw  back, 
wondering  if,  after  all,  it  really  is  in  the  Church 
that  comfort  lies. 

One  Church  proclaims  Church  authority  as  the 
great  requisite  to  soul  salvation;  another  declares 
healing  of  the  sick  by  faith  and  the  belief  in  that 
creed  to  be  essential  to  complete  and  fructifying 
Christianity ;  a  third  insists  upon  acceptance  of  the 
dogma  of  the  Trinity;  a  fourth  requires  faith  in 
Christ's  second  coming;  a  fifth  demands  contem- 
plation as  the  main  part  of  worship ;  a  sixth  links 
itself  inseparably  to  mysticism ;  a  seventh  cries  that 
real  salvation  comes  through  works  alone. 

The  division  of  the  Christians  of  the  world  into 
small  groups,  each  sealed  in  its  own  room  with  no 
communicating  doors  between — that  is  the  thing 
which  balks  the  Church  as  a  great  influence,  which 


FOREWORD  xiii 

holds  humanity,  prone  to  aspire,  in  cheek  upon  the 
verge  of  aspiration. 

Revolted  by  such  conditions,  the  intellectual 
classes  have  been  driven  to  agnosticism  or  atheism ; 
the  classes  of  mid-intellectual  development  have 
been  kept  out  of  the  Church  entirely,  or  have  been 
converted  into  that  soul  smugness  which  is  so  great 
a  threat;  the  lower  classes  who  lack  the  time  to 
think,  or  have  not  reached  an  intellectual  develop- 
ment enabling  them  to  think  alone,  have  been 
poisoned  by  the  chauvinism  of  one  creed  or  another. 

And  so  Christianity  is  dying  in  the  world. 

Can  not  America  give  birth  to  the  Church  which 
will  be  so  broad  that  all  humanity  can  hear  its 
promises,  find  its  comfort,  realize  its  perfect  Christ- 
like reasonableness? 

I  shall  go  further  than  to  say  that  you  in  the 
United  States  are  capable  of  producing  this  great 
boon  for  all  humanity.  I  shall  declare  my  firm 
belief  that  you  are  now  in  process  of  producing  it. 

It  is  not  yet  organized  and  it  does  not  yet  appear 
as  one  Church  even  in  the  minds  of  those  indi- 
viduals who — unconsciously,  I  think,  in  most 
instances — are  vigorously  promoting  it.  In  the 
United  States,  the  Church  already  has  thousands  of 
communicants  who  call  themselves  undenomina- 
tional, and,  in  your  various  interdenominational 
movements,  evidence  of  your  splendid  influence 
towards  Christian  unity. 

Can  not  you  organize  from  American  Christianity 
this  Church  of  the  Great  Light — inclusive  as  Christ 


xiv  FOREWORD 

is — the  Church  of  Good  Will?  I  suggest  no  opera- 
tion of  destruction  for  the  Churches  as  they  are. 
But  can  not  religious  thought  in  the  United  States, 
the  land  of  freedom  and  fearlessness,  say  to  all: 
Retain  membership  in  your  own  Church  as  you 
retain  citizenship  in  your  own  state,  but  join  also 
the  Church  of  the  Great  Light,  accepting  member- 
Bhip  in  it  as  you  accept  citizenship  in  the  United 
States. 

You  may  be  a  New  Yorker,  a  Californian,  an 
Ohioan,  but  in  spite  of  that,  because  of  that,  beyond 
all  that  you  are  an  American. 

So  you  may  be  a  Baptist,  or  a  Methodist,  or  an 
Episcopalian,  or  a  Christian  Scientist,  but  beyond 
that  you  will  be  a  full  communicant  of  the  Church 
of  the  Great  Light,  getting  from  this  membership 
something  spiritual  comparable  to  that  of  far  less 
but  of  mighty  import  which  you  get  from  citizenship 
in  the  United  States.  Be  you  Roman  Catholic  or 
Puritan  you  can  belong  to  the  Church  of  the  Great 
Light. 

There,  I  say,  is  the  great  opportunity  of  the 
United  States.  In  your  national  life  you  have  been 
educated  to  broad  tolerance.  You  will  not  per- 
manently hold  to  even  slight  intolerance  in  your 
religious  thought.  With  charity  toward  all  and 
with  malice  toward  none,  by  the  Grace  of  God — 
free!  Make  the  effort,  you  American  Christians! 
Rise  to  new  heights  in  religion  as  your  fathers 
ascended  to  new  heights  in  humanitarianism  and 
political  thought.     Let  those  of  you  who  find  exist- 


FOREWOED  xy 

ing  Churches  narrow  and  cramping,  build  one  which 
shall  be  broad  and  will  not  cramp!  Forget  denomi- 
nation and  remember  Jesus  Christ. 

I  have  watched  the  progress  of  America  with  a 
thrilling  heart.  This  is  the  nation  which  accom- 
plishes impossibilities.  Gather  up  your  strength. 
Rally  your  tremendous  power  of  leadership ;  correct 
the  error  of  the  centuries;  create  the  Church  of 
which  Christ  himself  laid  down  the  outlines  and  of 
which  he  spoke  the  creed :  Love  ye  one  another. 

The  gate  of  Christianity  is  closed  for  the  man 
who  has  not  fulfilled  the  first  law.  Let  America 
produce  the  Church  which  may. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    The    Collapse    of    the    Churches: 

What  is  the  Matter?    ....  3 

II    Denominationalism  :  Religion  Inside 

THE  Churches 41 

III  Democracy:    Religion   Outside  the 

Churches 77 

IV  The  New  Basis  of  Religion    .    •    .  103 
V    Sacred  and  Secular 131 

VI    Theology  and  Sociology  .....  155 

VII    Church  and  State 189 

VIII    The  Community  Church  :  Principles  217 

IX    The   Community   Church:   Organi- 
zation^ Message  and  Work  .    .    .  249 

X    The  Practical  Problem 281 

XI    Conclusion 317 

Appendix 335 


*^What  Is  practically  necessary  is  this :  Let  your  (re- 
ligion) be  the  practical  acknowledgement  of  the  Spirit 
of  the  Universal  and  Beloved  Community.  This  is  the 
suflBcient  and  practical  faith.  .  .  .  All  else  about  your 
religion  is  the  accident  of  your  special  race  or  nation 
or  form  of  worship  or  training,  or  accidental  personal 
opinion,  or  devout  mystical  experience.  .  .  .  The  core, 
the  center  of  the  faith  is  not  the  person  of  the  individual 
founder,  and  is  not  any  other  individual  man.  Nor  is 
this  core  to  be  found  in  the  sayings  of  the  founder. 
.  .  .  The  core  of  the  faith  is  the  spirit,  the  Beloved 
Community.  There  is  nothing  else  under  heaven  whereby 
men  have  been  saved  or  can  be  saved. 

"...  Since  the  office  of  religion  is  to  aim  towards 
the  creation  on  earth  of  the  Beloved  Community,  the 
future  task  of  religion  is  the  task  of  inventing  and  apply- 
ing the  arts  which  shall  win  men  over  to  unity,  and 
which  shall  overcome  their  original  hatefulness  by  the 
gracious  love,  not  of  mere  individuals,  but  of  communi- 
ties. Now  such  arts  are  still  to  be  discovered.  Judge 
every  social  device,  every  proposed  reform,  every  na- 
tional and  local  enterprise,  by  the  one  test :  Does  this 
help  towards  the  coming  of  the  universal  community  f 
If  you  have  a  church,  judge  your  own  church  by  this 
standard;  and  if  your  church  does  not  yet  fully  meet 
this  standard,  aid  towards  reforming  your  church  ac- 
cordingly." 

JosiAH  ROYCE,  in 

The  ProUem  of  Christianity 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  COLLAPSE  OF  THE  CHURCHES:  WHAT 
IS  THE  MATTER? 


\ 


"The  old  religion  is  a  tree  that  has  borne  its  fruit. 
It  is  dying  at  the  top;  it  is  feeble  at  the  root.  It  no 
longer  touches  men's  lives  as  of  old.  The  great  things 
that  are  done  today  are  not  done  in  the  name  of  religion, 
but  in  the  name  of  science,  of  humanity,  of  civilization." 
John  Burroughs,  in 

Accepting  the  Universe 


NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  COLLAPSE  OF  THE  CHURCHES :  WHAT 
IS  THE  MATTER? 


That  there  is  something  the  matter  with  organized 
religion  in  this  present  day,  and  something  very 
seriously  the  matter,  is  a  fact  so  obvious  that  it  is 
no  longer  challenged  or  contradicted.  A  decline 
in  the  vitality  of  the  churches  has  been  noted  by 
sensitive  and  honest  observers  at  intervals  for 
nearly  one  hundred  years.  This  has  seldom,  how- 
ever, caused  alarm,  for  the  reason  that  social  insti- 
tutions of  every  kind  are  liable  to  fluctuations  of 
power  and  influence,  determined  by  changes  in 
economic  conditions,  personal  leadership,  and  the 
more  or  less  intangible  aspects  of  intellectual  and 
emotional  interest.  There  is  a  law  of  compensation 
in  such  phenomena,  and  what  is  lost,  therefore,  at 
one  time  is  inevitably  recovered  at  another.  If  the 
decline  seems  prolonged  and  extreme,  this  fact 
furnishes  only  the  more  reason  for  believing  that  a 
sharp  recovery  is  imminent  at  any  moment.  Thus 
have  we  lived,  during  the  last  two  generations  at 
least,  not  only  in  a  consciousness  of  the  waning 
power  of  the  churches,  but  also  in  an  eager  and 

3 


4  NEW    CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

confident  expectation  of  a  great  spiritual  revival. 
During  the  World  War  this  expectation  reached  an 
intensity  of  conviction  which  was  not  unrelated, 
perhaps,  to  the  degree  of  our  confusion  at  the 
failure  of  religion  to  prevent  so  incredible  a  recru- 
descence of  savagery.  This  vast  cataclysm  was 
going  to  act  as  a  kind  of  Day  of  Judgment!  It 
would  restore  man  to  his  senses,  purge  him  of  his 
indijSference  and  sin,  save  him  to  his  lost  fidelity  to 
the  best  and  highest.  The  spiritual  revival  that 
would  follow  the  war,  would  give  to  the  churches 
all  their  former  prestige,  and,  in  addition,  unprece- 
dented opportunities  of  service.  That  the  reapers 
might  be  prepared  for  the  harvest,  a  religious  body 
of  unparalleled  proportions  was  created  in  the 
so-called  Inter-Church  World  Movement.  Every- 
thing was  ready  for  an  awakening  which  would  still 
all  the  disquietude  and  repair  all  the  losses  of  the 
past  century.  But  alas,  the  war  is  long  since 
over — and  the  anticipated  revival  has  not  appeared ! 
On  the  contrary,  the  churches  were  never  before  so 
weak,  the  tide  of  spiritual  life  never  before  running 
at  so  low  an  ebb.  To  our  horror  we  are  forced  to 
acknowledge  that  the  declining  vitality  of  organized 
religion  has  ended,  in  this  war  period,  not  in 
recovery  but  in  collapse. 

II 

Evidence  of  this  collapse  of  the  churches,  so  long 
impending  and  now  at  hand,  is  apparent  in  certain 
outward  and  visible  manifestations  of  our  social 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES  5 

life.  The  signs  are  today  so  familiar  that  they 
need  only  to  be  listed  in  order  to  be  recognized  and 
understood. 

That  our  rural  churches  are  undergoing  a  process 
of  rapid  disintegration  has  been  suspected  for  many 
years,  and  now,  since  the  investigations  of  Mr. 
Gifford  Pinchot  and  others,  is  definitely  known. 
Whole  stretches  of  country-side  have  abandoned 
religious  practices  altogether;  in  the  small  towns, 
Sunday  worship  is  feebly  and  discouragingly  sus- 
tained by  members  of  the  older  generation.  The 
spectacle  of  abandoned  churches  is  almost  as  fre- 
quent in  many  portions  of  the  nation  as  that  of 
abandoned  farms  and  homesteads.  Of  course,  the 
decline  of  the  agricultural  population  of  the  United 
States,  the  steady  drift  of  people  from  the  country 
to  the  city,  the  substitution  of  alien  for  native 
stock  upon  the  land,  has  much  to  do  with  the  fate 
which  is  overtaking  the  country  churches.  But 
there  is  a  change  here  which  is  altogether  out  of 
proportion  to  the  change  which  is  taking  place  in 
the  general  social  environment.  The  flourishing 
Protestantism  of  the  country-side  of  sixty  or  seventy 
years  ago  is  passing  away,  and  nothing  is  coming 
to  take  its  place.  A  fine  old  parish  church,  set  in 
the  midst  of  a  busy  town  in  a  prosperous  farming 
community,  with  its  spacious  auditorium,  once 
crowded  on  a  Sunday  morning  with  happy  families, 
now  occupied  by  a  scattered  handful  of  aging  men 
and  women,  is  the  living  witness  to  what  is  happen- 
ing everywhere  in  the  rural  districts. 


6  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

The  decline  of  religion  in  the  cities  is  not  so 
evident  as  in  the  country.  For  one  thing,  the 
visible  signs  of  dissolution  and  decay  are  not 
allowed  to  clutter  up  the  landscape.  More  im- 
portant is  the  fact  that  in  the  cities  are  concen- 
trated those  influences  which  give  a  certain  out- 
ward glory  to  the  church  which  has  no  relation  to 
the  reality  of  its  inner  life.  Just  as  the  temple 
worship  in  ancient  Rome  was  never  so  splendid  as 
in  the  days  when  the  traditional  religion  of  the  state 
was  nearest  to  extinction,  so  the  churches  in  the 
great  political  and  commercial  centers  of  our  time, 
present  an  appearance  of  power  and  prosperity 
which  conceals  rather  than  expresses  the  essential 
facts.  In  the  cities  there  is  the  wealth  which 
builds  and  maintains  churches  in  the  same  way  that 
it  builds  and  maintains  art-galleries,  natural  his- 
tory museums,  and  opera  houses;  there  are  the 
musical  resources  which  make  the  churches  on  Sun- 
day afternoons  and  evenings,  and  at  the  festivals  of 
the  ecclesiastical  year,  great  concert-halls  for  the 
rendition  of  the  finest  cantatas  and  oratorios, 
requiems  and  masses;  there  are  the  eloquent  and 
far-famed  preachers  who,  like  political  orators  and 
Chautauqua  lecturers,  exercise  over  multitudes  of 
people  a  magic  of  the  spoken  word  which  is  apart 
from  the  religious  motive  on  behalf  of  which  they 
speak.  These,  and  other  influences  of  the  same 
kind,  assemble  in  conspicuous  places  great  congre- 
gations which  seem  to  give  the  lie  to  the  charge  that 
the  church  is  dying.      But  other  phenomena^  as 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES  7 

mucn  more  important  as  they  are  less  conspicuous, 
show  that  these  things  of  splendor  are  like  the 
hectic  flush  on  the  cheeks  of  the  dying  invalid.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  city  churches  are  in  quite  as 
serious  a  condition  as  the  country  churches.  Thus, 
it  is  only  in  a  few  of  the  more  famous  institutions, 
where  wealth  is  able  to  provide  beautiful  buildings, 
fine  music  and  great  preaching,  or  in  certain  local- 
ities where  a  high  degree  of  neighborhood  or 
community  life  has  been  developed,  that  large  con- 
gregations assemble  on  Sunday  mornings.  In  the 
majority  of  city  churches,  the  old  time  Sunday 
evening  services  and  mid-week  prayer  meetings 
have  been  abandoned;  or,  if  held,  are  attended  by 
only  the  meagerest  handful  of  members.  New 
church  edifices  are  usually  built  much  smaller 
than  the  old  edifices  which  they  replace.  This 
means  that  the  total  seating  capacity  of  existing 
churches  bears  a  steadily  diminishing  ratio  to  the 
total  population  of  the  municipalities  which  they 
undertake  to  serve.  New  societies,  of  course,  are 
constantly  being  organized,  but  not  so  fast  as  old 
societies  are  amalgamating,  or  disappearing  alto- 
gether. The  union  of  several  great  city  churches, 
each  one  of  which  formerly  enjoyed  an  independent 
life  of  abounding  prosperity  and  influence,  into  a 
single  church  not  so  large  as  any  one  of  its  original 
constituent  elements,  is  now  one  of  the  commonest 
as  it  is  one  of  the  most  amazing  features  of  present- 
day  religious  life.  Not  only  are  there  fewer 
churches  in  proportion  to  the  population  in  our 


8  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

great  cities  than  there  were  yesterday,  but  there  are 
in  some  places  fewer  churches  in  absolute  number. 
A  well-defined  process  is  now  under  way  which,  if 
continued  to  its  logical  end,  would  mean  the  disap- 
pearance of  churches  altogether  from  the  modern 
city. 

These  facts  of  country  and  city  life  are  bad 
enough  just  as  they  stand.  The  situation  becomes 
still  more  serious,  however,  when  we  go  behind 
these  facts,  and  see  what  the  great  denominational 
machines  are  doing  to  prop  up  the  rapidly  collaps- 
ing fabric  of  organized  religious  life.  Behind  prac- 
tically every  existing  Protestant  church  today 
there  is  the  denomination  to  which  it  is  organically 
attached.  This  denomination  has  a  central  head- 
quarters or  machine,  organized  to  perpetuate  and 
advance  its  own  particular  sectarian  cause.  For 
the  service  of  the  interests  involved  in  this  cause  it 
is  made  the  custodian  of  enormous  funds,  repre- 
senting on  the  one  hand  the  accumulation  of  past 
investments  and  endowments,  and  on  the  other 
hand  the  contemporary  gifts  of  a  comparatively 
few  individuals,  families  and  churches  which  chance 
to  be  liberally  provided  with  this  world's  goods. 
These  funds,  now,  are  used  by  the  denominational 
machines  as  a  kind  of  army  of  reserve,  to  be  thrown 
into  the  field  wherever  the  positions  at  present  held 
are  weakening,  or  new  strategic  positions  must  be 
occupied.  Thousands  of  existing  churches  of  all 
sects,  in  city  and  in  country  alike,  are  supported  not 
bj  gifts  from  the  people  of  their  own  communities 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHE  9 

but  by  largesses  from  their  denominational  head- 
quarters. The  fresh,  clear-flowing  springs  which 
once  sustained  them,  in  other  words,  are  now  dried 
up,  and  they  are  kept  alive  only  by  streams  of  water 
brought  to  them  by  pipe-lines  laid  from  distant 
reservoirs.  Of  the  new  churches  efficiently  organ- 
ized and  oftentimes  handsomely  housed  in  city  and 
suburban  neighborhoods,  the  majority  these  days 
represent  not  a  natural  growth  in  the  spiritual  soil 
of  the  community  in  which  they  are  located,  but  an 
artificial  growth  imported  and  implanted  from  out- 
side. It  is  the  denominational  machine,  that  is 
to  say,  which  has  rushed  in,  and  imposed  upon 
a  locality  an  institution  which  it  would  never 
have  produced  of  itself.  Once  established,  this 
institution  is  sustained  indefinitely  by  an  elaborate 
irrigation  system  of  annual  grants,  secretarial 
visitations,  gifts  or  loans  of  building  funds,  etc., 
from  national  headquarters.  If  our  central  de- 
nominational organizations  should  for  any  reason 
suddenly  cease  to  function,  if  their  vast  financial 
reservoirs  should  no  longer  be  available  for  sec- 
tarian propoganda,  if  our  churches  should  all  at 
once  be  called  upon  to  support  themselves,  great 
numbers  of  them,  both  old  and  new,  in  city  and  in 
country,  would  wither  and  fade  and  ultimately 
perish,  as  the  people  of  a  land,  the  ports  of  which 
are  blockaded  by  an  enemy  in  war,  die  miserably  of 
starvation.  The  present  outward  appearance  of  the 
churches,  in  other  words,  is  no  accurate  test  of  their 
real  condition.     The  sole  criterion  of  health  is  that 


10  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

of  self-support;  and  it  is  just  this  self-support  which 
is  slowly  but  surely  disappearing  over  wider  and 
wider  areas  of  modern  life.  Religious  activity 
today  represents,  to  an  ever-growing  extent,  the 
momentum  transmitted  to  us  by  our  fathers.  We 
are  living  on  capital  which  we  have  not  produced 
but  inherited.  Put  to  this  generation  the  challenge 
to  build  and  support  their  own  churches — and 
the  result,  to  the  traditionally  minded  at  least, 
would  be  positively  terrifying. 

The  most  impressive  indication,  however,  of  this 
waning  religious  vitality,  of  which  we  are  now 
speaking,  has  still  to  be  mentioned.  I  refer  to  the 
appalling  failure  of  the  ministerial  supply.  For 
years  it  has  been  noted  with  alarm  that  young  men, 
especially  those  of  the  better  order  of  intelligence 
and  character,  are  no  longer  entering  the  service 
of  the  church  as  a  profession.  Men  who  in  other 
times  would  have  inevitably  given  their  lives  to  the 
ministry,  now  enter  the  field  of  medicine,  or  social 
service,  or  even  business  and  the  law.  The  enroll- 
ment at  most  of  the  theological  schools  in  the 
country  has  been  steadily  declining  during  the  past 
generation,  until  today  the  situation  is  one  of 
positive  collapse.  It  is  conservatively  estimated 
that  five  thousand  (5,000)  pulpits  were  vacant  for 
lack  of  clergymen  in  June,  1921,  and  that  only  six- 
teen hundred  (1,600)  students  were  in  that  month 
being  graduated  to  meet  this  need.  Another  five 
years,  at  the  present  rate  of  supply  and  demand, 
will  see  ten  thousand  (10,000)  empty  pulpits,  with 


COLLAPSE  OF  THE   CHURCHES        11 

nobody  to  fill  them.  During  the  World  War  it  was 
confidently  believed  that  the  spiritual  revival  which 
was  to  follow  upon  this  vast  cataclysm,  would  bring 
hosts  of  young  men  to  the  service  of  religion. 
Stirred  to  their  depths  by  sudden  experiences  of 
peril  and  death,  confronted  by  the  spectacle  of  a 
shattered  and  bleeding  world,  disciplined  to  the 
rigors  of  daily  sacrifice,  these  young  soldiers  must 
surely  find  God,  and  yearn,  when  peace  shall  come, 
to  give  themselves  utterly  to  the  work  of  his 
Kingdom!  Nothing  of  the  kind,  however,  has 
eventuated.  On  the  contrary,  just  the  opposite  has 
taken  place.  The  close  of  the  war  was  followed  by 
the  greatest  slump  in  attendance  at  American 
divinity  schools  in  recent  history.  What  is  worse, 
there  is  little  prospect  of  improvement  in  the  future. 
In  one  great  denomination  a  total  of  only  tw^enty- 
one  candidates  for  theological  study  is  now  known, 
and  these  are  by  no  means  every  one  of  them  certain ! 
In  seeking  explanation  of  this  phenomenon, 
investigators  are  prone  to  lay  emphasis  upon  its 
economic  aspects.  Men  do  not  enter  the  ministry, 
they  argue,  because  salaries  are  disgracefully 
inadequate.  This  factor  is,  of  course,  not  to  be 
ignored,  but  we  believe  that  it  is  far  removed,  all 
the  same,  from  the  actualities  of  the  situation. 
Who  that  knows  the  idealism  of  many  of  our 
American  youth  can  believe  that  the  financial 
problem  is  anything  more  than  a  complicating 
feature  of  the  situation?  Are  men  refusing  to  seek 
positions  on  the  faculties  of  our  colleges  and  uni- 


12  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOE    OLD 

versities  because  the  pay  of  a  teacher  is  only  a  little 
higher  than  that  of  a  clergyman?  Are  they  turning 
away  from  the  social  service  field  because  it  offers 
no  promise  of  large  salaries?  Are  the  ranks  of  our 
poets,  musicians  and  scholars  becoming  suddenly 
depleted  because  one  must  starve  while  seeking  the 
ideal  of  one's  heart?  Worth-while  men  are  as  eager 
today  to  take  up  worth-while  work,  involving  sacri- 
fice to  high  ends,  as  they  ever  were.  But  such  men 
must  be  convinced  that  the  work  is  really  worth- 
while; and  it  is  of  just  this  that  they  are  not  con- 
vinced in  the  case  of  the  professional  ministry.  Few 
men  are  today  so  mean,  or  so  quixotic,  as  to  do  it 
reverence.  The  idealistic  youth,  looking  abroad 
over  the  world  to  discover  the  field  of  service  where 
he  can  ^^spend  and  be  spent"  with  the  best  results 
of  divine  achievement,  frankly  regards  the  religious 
field  as  sheer  waste  of  effort.  What  is  more,  this 
youth  is  increasingly  being  sustained  in  his  judg- 
ment by  those  of  the  older  generation  to  whom  he 
naturally  turns  for  counsel.  Ministers  know  so 
well  in  their  own  hearts  the  plight  of  the  churches, 
that  they  no  longer  have  courage  to  persuade  the 
young  men  of  their  parishes  to  ^^leave  all  and 
follow."  Parents,  even  those  who  are  faithfully 
associated  with  church  life,  see  so  little  prospect  of 
usefulness  in  the  ministry  that  they  are  unwilling 
that  their  sons  shall  enter  the  profession.  The 
present  condition  of  our  American  theological 
seminaries  shows  two  things  with  perfect  clear- 
ness— first,  that  the  rising  generation  has  no  confi- 


COLLAPSE  OF  THE  CHURCHES        13 

dence  in  the  eflScacy  and  worth  of  the  churches  as 
they  exist  today;  and  secondly,  that  the  passing 
generation  is  steadily  losing  the  confidence  which 
it  once  had.  Which  means  that  organized  religion 
has  lost  vitality  to  such  an  extent  that  it  is  no 
longer  able  to  accomplish  the  processes  of  its  own 
reproduction !  Like  stock  which  has  run  out,  it  has 
suddenly  become  sterile. 

Consolation  in  the  present  crisis  is  still  sought, 
by  those  reluctant  to  face  reality,  in  the  so-called 
church  statistics  which  are  published  every  now 
and  then.  These  indicate  an  increase  in  church 
membership  at  a  rate  not  at  all  discouraging. 
Thus  in  1920,  after  a  decline  not  unnaturally  occa- 
sioned by  the  war,  statistical  reports  showed  a  gen- 
eral increase.  Such  figures  would  seem  to  answer 
every  charge  of  waning  interest  and  depleted 
vitality  in  the  churches.  But  what  is  behind  these 
figures?  What  do  they  really  mean?  We  have  no 
doubt  that  thousands  of  new  names  are  added  to 
our  church  rolls  every  year;  but  how  many  old 
names  are  ever  removed?  Church  members  are 
strangely  akin  to  political  office-holders — few  die, 
and  none  resign!  The  membership  roll  of  the 
average  church  carries  the  names  not  only  of  those 
actively  and  thus  genuinely  associated  with  the 
institution,  but  of  an  indefinite  number  of  the  "lost, 
strayed  or  stolen."  It  counts  among  the  "regulars'' 
those  whose  regularity  is  attested  by  nothing  better 
than  unfailing  attendance  at  the  annual  Easter 
services.     It  duplicates  the  lists  of  inmates  in  the 


U  NEW  CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

old  ladies'  homes,  and  competes  shamelessly  with 
the  headstones  in  the  cemeteries.  As  for  the  new 
names  added  to  the  roll  each  year,  these  include  the 
"transfers''  from  other  churches,  the  converts  made 
at  elaborate  revivals,  most  of  whom  are  won  only 
to  be  lost,  and  the  adolescents  confirmed  in  a  mem- 
bership which  they  do  not  understand  and  will  not 
necessarily  fulfill.  Church  statistics  are  always 
the  most  inaccurate,  frequently  the  most  dishonest, 
on  record.  Against  these  reports  which  indicate  so 
happy  an  increase  in  church  membership  each 
year,  we  place  the  grim  fact,  flung  into  the  face  of 
a  complacent  nation  by  the  Inter-Church  World 
Movement,  a  body  as  remarkable  for  its  integrity  as 
for  its  piety  and  zeal — that  only  sixty  per  cent  of 
the  people  of  America  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
churches,  either  Catholic  or  Protestant,  and  that 
three  children  out  of  every  four  in  the  country 
never  receive  any  religious  instruction  of  any  kind ! 
Confirmation  of  these  definite  facts  as  to  the  col- 
lapse of  the  churches,  may  be  found  in  certain 
intangible  but  none  the  less  impressive  "signs  of 
the  times"  which  are  plain  to  all  who  have  eyes  to 
see.  Thus,  how  feeble  is  the  public  influence  of  the 
churches  today  as  compared  with  that  which  they 
wielded  a  half-century  ago !  The  opposition  of  the 
churches,  for  example,  to  the  Darwinian  theory,  in 
the  decades  of  the  '60s  and  the  '70s,  shook  the 
world,  and  the  resulting  battle  between  science  and 
religion  is  remembered  as  one  of  the  great  events  of 
the  nineteenth  century.      Today,  per  contra^  the 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES        15 

churches  might  be  opposed  no  less  strenuously  to 
Einstein's  doctrine  of  relativity  or  Bergson's  theory 
of  creative  evolution,  but  nobody  would  know  it; 
or,  if  any  knew  it,  they  would  not  care. 

In  the  same  way,  the  ministers  of  the  church  have 
in  our  time  sunk  into  figures  of  relative  unimpor- 
tance. Yesterday  the  minister  was  a  personage  of 
large  public  influence  and  distinction ;  he  held  great 
offices,  led  opinion,  and  dominated  community  life. 
Today  the  minister,  with  few  exceptions,  is  com- 
pletely overshadowed  by  the  college  president,  the 
editor,  the  social  reformer  and  the  politician ;  he  has 
fallen,  by  a  process  as  gradual  but  as  inexorable 
as  the  melting  of  a  glacier,  into  the  comparative 
obscurity  of  parish  administration.  It  is  common 
to  attribute  this  decline  in  the  influence  of  the 
ministry  to  decline  in  the  calibre  of  the  men  in  the 
profession — and  this  undoubtedly  has  something  to 
do  with  the  phenomenon.  But  much  more  im- 
portant is  the  decline  in  the  whole  social  status  of 
the  church  and  its  ministerial  office.  There  are 
men  of  preeminent  power  in  the  pulpit  today; 
Bishop  Williams  is  as  great  a  churchman.  Rabbi 
Wise  as  great  a  preacher,  as  America  has  ever 
known.  But  such  men  possess  not  a  tithe  of  the 
influence  and  fame  enjoyed  by  men  of  earlier  days 
in  no  way  their  equal.  As  for  the  scores  of  able 
men  still  active  in  the  churches,  the  vast  majority 
languish  in  an  obscurity  which  even  the  humblest 
of  their  predecessors  would  have  despised.  The 
melancholy  fact  is  that  the  world  is  no  longer  inter- 


16  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

ested  in  churches  and  ministers  as  they  are  known 
today.  The  Sunday  utterances  of  leading  preachers 
were  always  adequately  and  occasionally  fully  re- 
ported in  the  newspapers  of  thirty  and  fifty  years 
ago ;  today,  the  greatest  men,  such  as  Felix  Adler, 
for  example,  pass  unreported.  Sermons  in  the  old 
days  were  printed  in  permanent  book  form,  and 
occupied  a  prominent  place  among  current  publica- 
tions; today,  apart  from  the  writings  of  a  few 
sentimentalists  of  a  spiritual  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 
type,  a  volume  of  sermons  is  almost  unknown. 
There  was  a  time,  be  it  said,  when  a  man's  place  in 
the  ministry  was  his  guarantee  of  position  and 
influence;  in  our  time,  this  place  must  be  disguised, 
forgotten,  or  forgiven,  as  a  first  condition  of  public 
confidence.  The  garb  of  the  priest,  in  other  words, 
has  become  more  often  an  occasion  for  scorn  than 
for  reverence. 

As  for  the  general  life  of  the  present  day,  who 
can  testify  that  the  churches  are  any  longer  of 
much  importance?  Apart  from  a  few  traditional- 
ists and  conventionalists,  who  cares  very  much 
whether  they  continue  to  do  business  or  not?  As 
social  organizations,  for  example,  what  churches 
occupy  place  in  the  lives  of  men  and  women  com- 
parable to  Masonic  lodges.  Rotary  clubs,  granges, 
or  even  political  parties?  As  agencies  for  public 
welfare,  how  can  the  churches  be  compared  for  a 
moment  with  city  clubs,  women's  clubs,  social  set- 
tlements, or  consumers  leagues?  As  assembly 
places  for  purposes  of  education  or  reform,  are  the 


COLLAPSE   OF   THE   CHURCHES        17 

churches  in  the  same  class  with  community  centres, 
public  forums,  current  events  classes,  Chautauquas, 
or  the  ^'movies"?  As  sources  of  refreshment  and 
inspiration,  are  not  the  churches  fast  yielding 
ground  to  libraries,  art-galleries,  symphony  and 
operatic  concerts,  and  that  love  of  Nature  which  is 
fast  becoming  as  deep  a  passion  to  the  modern 
American  as  to  the  ancient  Greek? 

From  the  lives  of  the  majority  of  our  people,  the 
churches  have  disappeared.  Those  who  today  sup- 
port and  attend  them,  are  members  of  a  generation 
reared  to  the  practice  of  religious  observance.  The 
new  generation  has  broken  free,  and  turned  to  other 
things.  Once  the  channel  in  which  flowed  the 
swelling  stream  of  life,  the  churches  are  now  become 
stray  nooks  and  corners  in  which  eddies  stir. 
These  eddies  not  infrequently  make  much  noise; 
they  whirl  with  a  foam  and  fury  that  attracts  and 
holds  attention.  But  they  are  turning  always  upon 
themselves;  are  uncaught  by  the  majestic  flow  of 
that  central  current  which  seeks  increasingly  the 
sea ;  and,  in  the  end,  are  doomed  to  become  but  "a 
fen  of  stagnant  waters,"  choked  with  dead  debris. 

Ill 

The  outward  signs  of  the  collapse  of  the  churches 
are  thus  obvious  enough.  To  turn,  now,  from  these 
external  phenomena  to  the  inner  realities  of  which 
they  are  the  manifestation,  is  to  raise  the  whole 
question  of  the  causes  of  this  ecclesiastical  catas- 


18  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

trophe  which  is  upon  us.  This,  in  turn,  involves 
the  complex  workings  of  all  the  social  forces, 
political  and  economic  as  well  as  technically  re- 
ligious, which  have  been  active  in  the  western 
world  since  the  Renaissance,  and  even  earlier  in  the 
fruitful  womb  of  the  Dark  Ages.  Before  entering 
upon  even  a  cursory  survey  of  the  past,  however,  it 
may  be  well  to  consider  what  the  present  situation 
reveals.  For  the  same  forces  which  have  been  at 
work  from  the  beginning  are  at  work  today;  and 
at  this  late  and  climactic  hour,  they  possess  the 
inestimable  advantage  of  having  at  last  registered 
their  results  and  thus  revealed  the  pattern  of  their 
operation.  This  means  the  simplification  and 
clarification  of  the  whole  problem ;  we  can  see  now 
what  has  been  going  on  all  the  while.  Suppose, 
therefore,  that  a  keen  observer,  who  knew  nothing 
of  history,  were  asked  to  examine  the  inner  life  of 
the  churches  today,  as  related  to  the  life  of  con- 
temporary society,  and  tell  us  what  is  the  matter. 
What  would  he  say? 

The  answer  of  such  a  man,  we  believe,  would  be 
direct  and  plain.  He  would  point  out  that  the 
trouble  with  the  churches,  when  reduced  to  its 
lowest  terms,  is  two-fold. 

In  the  first  place,  the  churches  are  identified  with 
ideas  and  practices  of  life  in  which  the  modern  man 
has  not  the  slightest  interest  of  any  kind.  This 
man  is  not  only  not  interested  in  the  things  which 
concern  the  churches,  but  he  does  not  even  believe 
in  them.     He  has  simply  moved  out  of  the  world 


COLLAPSE  OF  THE  CHURCHES        19 

in  whicli  the  typical  Protestant  church  was  born, 
and  in  which  it  is  still  living  at  the  present  moment. 
What  the  churches  are  thinking  and  saying  and 
doing,  he  does  not  know ;  or,  if  he  chances  to  know, 
he  does  not  care. 

Just  to  attend  a  religious  service  on  Sunday 
morning  is  to  witness  a  spectacle  which  demon- 
strates in  vivid  dramatic  form  the  alienation  of  the 
modern  mind  from  all  that  is  most  real  and  precious 
to  the  church.  Here  is  a  building,  the  architecture 
of  which  is  a  more  or  less  feeble  attempt  to  per- 
petuate the  glories  of  Medievalism  or  the  rigorous 
austerities  of  Puritanism.  Here  are  symbols  which 
are  as  meaningless  to  the  average  observer  as  the 
hieroglyphics  on  an  Egyptian  tomb.  Here  is  a 
literature,  offered  as  sacred,  which  contains  no 
word  written  down  later  than  two  hundred  years 
after  the  death  of  Jesus,  and  no  idea  later  than  the 
Neo-Platonic  speculations  of  Alexandrian  Judaism. 
Here  are  readings,  prayers,  instructions,  exhorta- 
tions, couched  in  language  Pauline,  Augustinian, 
Lutheran,  Calvinistic,  Wesleyan,  and  therefore  as 
unintelligible  today  as  the  jargon  of  alchemy  or 
astrology.  Here  are  ideas  which  embody  science, 
history,  psychology,  philosophy,  of  a  type  which  has 
disappeared  long  since  from  every  hall  of  learning, 
and  from  all  literature  save  that  specifically  labeled 
"religious."  Here  is  an  attitude  toward  the  uni- 
verse, toward  life  and  its  destiny,  toward  society 
and  its  problems,  which  is  as  strange  to  the  modern 
man  as  that  of  a  foreign  country,  a  distant  age,  or 


20  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

even  anotlier  planet.  Above  all,  there  is  an 
atmosphere  in  this  place  which  seems  as  remote 
from  our  every-day  world  as  the  atmosphere  of  a 
buried  city;  from  it  there  seems  to  be  excluded 
everything  that  breathes  of  life  and  joy.  Emerson 
felt  this  as  long  ago  as  1838,  when  he  wrote  in  his 
Divinity  School  Address^  "I  once  heard  a  preacher 
who  sorely  tempted  me  to  say  I  would  go  to  church 
no  more.  Men  go,  thought  I,  where  they  are  wont 
to  go,  else  had  no  soul  entered  the  temple  in  the 
afternoon.  A  snow  storm  was  falling  around  us. 
The  snow  storm  was  real;  the  preacher  merely 
spectral ;  and  the  eye  felt  the  sad  contrast  in  look- 
ing at  him,  and  then  out  of  the  window  behind  him, 
into  the  beautiful  meteor  of  the  snow.''  What 
Emerson  saw  in  the  phenomena  of  Nature  is  still 
more  vividly  seen  in  the  closely  analogous  activities 
of  human  society.  Compare  a  religious  service,  for 
example,  with  a  political  rally,  a  patriotic  mass 
meeting,  or  a  public  gathering  on  behalf  of  some 
great  movement  for  social  betterment!  Is  it  not 
evident  that  in  the  latter  we  have  a  vital  interest, 
and  in  the  former  a  dull  conformity  to  tradition? 
If  we  put  by  surface  indications  of  this  kind,  and 
inquire  more  nearly  into  the  ideas  and  purposes 
with  which  organized  religion  is  concerned,  shall 
we  not  find  added  confirmation  of  our  thesis  that 
the  churches  deal  with  matters  utterly  remote  from 
anything  that  we  really  care  about  today?  Sliall 
we  follow  the  churches'  own  example  and  take  their 
creeds  as  the  evidence  of  what  they  are  standing  for 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES        21 

in  this  modern  age?  By  what  hocus-pocus  of  inter- 
pretation can  these  platforms  of  faith  be  presented 
as  anything  other  than  what  they  really  are — a 
record  of  controversies  long  since  forgotten  and  of 
beliefs  long  since  disproved?  By  what  imaginable 
reversion  of  attention  can  persons  who  have  learned 
the  lessons  of  Newton  and  Darwin,  and  are  now  sit- 
ting at  the  feet  of  Bergson  and  Einstein,  be  per- 
suaded to  hold  interest  in  affirmations  of  the 
Trinity,  the  Atonement,  the  Resurrection,  Redemp- 
tion, Salvation,  and  the  rest — much  less  to  express 
their  spiritual  ideals  in  terms  of  these  conceptions? 
We  do  not  expect  men  today  to  light  their  houses 
by  rush-light,  to  travel  in  stage-coaches  or  on  horse- 
back, to  converse  in  Latin,  to  live  in  the  thought- 
world  of  Plato,  or  Kant,  or  even  Herbert  Spencer. 
Why  should  we  expect  them  to  accept  the  ideas  or 
even  retain  the  phrases  of  the  Nicene  Creed  or  the 
Westminster  Confession?  Chroniclers  may  be 
interested  in  these  documents,  but  not  prophets; 
antiquarians,  but  not  martyrs  or  saints.  And  yet 
it  is  the  prophets,  martyrs  and  saints  of  every  age 
who  make  the  glory  of  the  church ! 

If  not  the  creeds,  which  may  be  a  mere  formality, 
after  all,  shall  we  take  the  religious  instruction  of 
the  children  as  witness  of  what  the  churches  are 
concerned  with  at  this  present  moment?  Surely, 
what  we  want  our  boys  and  girls  to  know  is  what 
we  think  essential  to  the  religious  consciousness! 
But  what  do  we  find  in  the  Sunday  schools? 
Study  of  Israelites,  Canaanites,  Midianites^  Edom- 


22  ]^EW   CHURCHES    FOE    OLD 

ites,  of  no  more  importance  to  our  age  than 
Scythians  and  Bactrians!  Study  of  Biblical 
legends,  about  as  essential  to  the  modern  mind  as 
Greek  mythology  or  Scandinavian  lore!  Study  of 
the  life  of  Jesus,  in  terms  of  miracle  and  wonder 
unchanged  by  anything  that  has  happened  since  the 
days  of  Strauss!  Study  of  theological  doctrines, 
ethical  precepts,  tales  of  heroism  and  sacrifice, 
which  represent  no  experience  nearer  to  our  own 
than  that  of  hundreds  or  even  thousands  of  years 
ago !  And  what  is  done  by  our  Sunday  schools,  is 
done  again  in  sublimated  form  by  our  theological 
schools,  with  their  endless  courses  of  Hebrew  and 
Greek,  Old  Testament  and  New  Testament  exegesis. 
Christian  history,  doctrine  and  apologetics.  Is  it 
any  wonder  that  children  enter  Sunday  schools  only 
to  drift  away ;  and  that  it  is  fast  getting  impossible 
to  inveigle  a  wide-awake  young  man  into  a  theo- 
logical school  on  any  terms ! 

It  may  be  objected,  however,  that  it  is  unfair  to 
test  the  life  of  the  churches  today  by  such  criteria 
as  these.  The  creeds  embody  nothing  that  is 
vital  —  their  retention  constitutes  a  mere  gesture 
of  salutation  to  the  venerated  past.  Instruction  in 
schools  and  seminaries  is  defective,  and  should  be 
drastically  reformed,  but  represents  only  the  nat- 
ural traditionalism  of  an  institution  operating  in  a 
field  not  definitely  its  own.  What  is  essential  in 
the  churches  is  their  service  of  righteousness,  their 
steadfast  witness  to  moral  precepts  and  spiritual 
ideals.      In  an  age  surrendered  to  the  grossest 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES        23 

forms  of  materialism,  the  churches  keep  alive  the 
thought  of  God  and  the  vision  of  his  holy  spirit. 
In  a  period  which  seems  to  have  lost  all  sense  of 
moral  values,  the  churches  impose  standards  which 
shall  some  day  be  the  salvation  of  the  race.  At  a 
moment  when  society  seems  to  be  given  over  utterly 
to  hatred  and  bitterness,  to  strife,  contention  and 
barbaric  slaughter,  the  churches  proclaim  unfalter- 
ingly the  truth  that  love  is  the  sole  and  perfect  law 
of  life.  The  churches  are  concerned  with  nothing 
less  or  other  than  the  Kingdom  of  God  on  earth, 
and  this  is  a  task  as  vital  today  as  ever. 

This  contention  we  shall  discuss  at  length  later 
on.  Meanwhile  we  content  ourselves  at  this  point 
with  asking  the  question  as  to  why  churches  whose 
business  is  thus  described  to  be  the  moralization  or 
spiritualization  of  contemporary  society,  are  still 
divided  into  more  than  one  hundred  and  sixty  dif- 
ferent denominations,  each  one  distinct  from  all  the 
others  on  some  point  not  of  life  but  of  theology, 
ritual,  or  ecclesiastical  order?  If  religion  is  really 
organized  for  the  accomplishment  of  a  practical 
spiritual  task  in  the  world  of  human  relation- 
ship today,  why  do  we  have  not  one  church  of 
God,  or  Humanity,  or  the  Kingdom,  but  Metho- 
dist churches,  Presbyterian  churches.  Episcopalian 
churches,  Congregational  churches.  Unitarian 
churches,  Protestant  and  Catholic  churches,  Chris- 
tian churches,  Jewish  synagogues  and  Mormon 
temples?  If  we  ask  why  a  church  is  Unitarian 
rather  than  Congregational,  we  have  to  consult 


24  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

musty  volumes  in  the  theological  library  which  tell 
us  of  eighteenth  century  disputes  between  liberals 
and  conservatives  over  questions  pertaining  to  the 
being  of  God  and  the  nature  of  man.  If  we  ask 
what  we  mean  by  Presbyterianism,  we  find  nothing 
to  inform  us  in  anything  that  is  being  thought  or 
done  or  even  hoped  today,  but  must  journey  far 
back  to  a  distant  city  in  a  remote  age,  and  study 
the  teachings  of  an  intolerant  dogmatist  by  the 
name  of  John  Calvin.  If  we  inquire  why  there  is 
an  Episcopalian  church  in  America  in  the  year 
1921,  we  must  seek  an  answer  in  the  England  of 
1530,  the  elements  of  which  are  strangely  com- 
pounded of  theological  dogma,  ecclesiastical  law, 
and  personal  and  political  events  in  the  history  of 
the  Tudors.  If  we  ask  about  Protestants  and 
Catholics,  and  add  to  these  the  Greek  church  and 
the  Jewish  synagogue,  we  come  to  regions  as  fan- 
tastic and  unreal  to  the  modern  mind  as  the  lands 
seen  by  Gulliver  in  his  famous  travels.  The  fact 
of  the  matter  is,  there  is  not  a  single  one  of  the 
historic  denominations  or  churches  which  repre- 
sents in  its  separate  organic  life  anything  that  is 
remotely  connected  with  the  religious  ideas  and 
purposes  of  the  present  hour.  Their  presence  in 
the  world  today  is  as  anomalous  as  would  be  the 
survival,  as  organized  groups  in  modern  society,  of 
the  "blues''  and  the  "greens"  of  ancient  Byzantium, 
or  the  cavaliers  and  roundheads  of  Stuart  England. 
Their  existence  serves  no  purpose  other  than  that 
of  perpetuating  the  memory  of  controversies  over 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES        25 

matters  once  deemed  of  vital  concern  to  the  life  and 
destiny  of  the  race,  but  now  a  subject  merely  of 
curiosity  or  even  jest.  Their  very  names  speak  a 
dead  language,  and  carry  the  odor  of  a  gutted 
candle.  And  yet,  if  challenge  is  spoken  to  the 
churches  to  deliver  themselves  from  ^^the  body  of 
this  death" — ^to  prove  the  sincerity  of  their  own 
spiritual  professions  by  dropping  their  separate 
names,  abandoning  their  competitive  sects,  burying 
their  theological  and  ecclesiastical  disputations, 
and  uniting  in  one  all-inclusive  organization  for  the 
doing  of  the  task  of  the  Kingdom  which  is  alone 
rightly  before  them — they  hesitate,  and  in  the  end, 
for  all  the  shame  of  it,  refuse!  Again  and  yet 
again,  in  recent  years,  has  the  chance  been  given  to 
the  churches  to  throw  down  their  denominational 
barriers,  and  become  as  "one  body  in  Christ.''  An 
unexampled  opportunity  came  at  the  close  of  the 
Great  War,  and  was  nobly  seized  by  the  early 
leaders  of  the  Inter-Church  World  Movement.  But 
the  churches  still  preserve,  as  a  woman  her  honor, 
their  artificial  sectarian  differences.  The  most  they 
will  consider  is  the  establishment  of  certain  inter- 
church  bodies,  like  the  Federal  Council  of  the 
Churches  of  Christ  in  America,  for  the  doing  of 
work  which  they  themselves  either  cannot  or  will 
not  do.  Which  means,  if  we  are  honest  enough  to 
recognize  plain  facts,  that  the  churches  in  the  last 
analysis  are  more  interested  in  theological  ideas 
than  in  Christian  work,  more  concerned  with 
dogmas  of  the  past  than  with  duties  of  the  present 


26  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

or  dreams  and  visions  of  the  future !  Our  churches 
are  Methodist  churches,  Episcopalian  churches, 
Presbyterian  churches,  Unitarian  churches,  Protes- 
tant churches.  Catholic  churches,  first;  and  Chris- 
tian churches,  second.  Their  raison  d'etre  is 
primarily  a  confession  of  faith  which  is  peculiar  to 
themselves,  and  only  incidentally  a  platform  of 
social  reform  which  is  common  to  all  right-minded 
men  the  world  around.  To  teach  their  own  particu- 
lar theological  doctrines,  to  make  converts  to  their 
own  exclusive  way  of  life,  to  advance  their  own 
patented,  copyrighted,  specialized  sectarian  inter- 
est, this  is  the  end  and  aim  of  their  continued 
existence.  If  it  were  not,  then  they  would  no 
longer  exist,  for  the  modern  world  has  no  place 
for  Congregational,  Episcopalian,  and  Unitarian 
churches  apart  from  churches.  The  conclusion  is 
inevitable.  So  long  as  the  denominations  survive, 
and  stand  forth  as  the  one  distinctive  feature  of  the 
religious  world,  it  is  foolish  to  talk  about  the 
churches  seeking  ^^first  the  Kingdom  of  God  and 
his  righteousness." 

We  repeat,  therefore,  that  the  churches  today  are 
concerned  with  things  in  which  the  modern  man  has 
not  the  slightest  interest.  They  live  in  a  different 
world  from  the  rest  of  society.  Their  thoughts  are 
not  our  thoughts,  nor  their  ways  our  ways !  This 
is  as  true  in  spirit,  if  not  in  letter,  of  liberal 
churches,  so-called,  as  of  orthodox.  For  while 
these  liberal  churches  have  thrown  off  many  of  the 
fetters  of  ancient  dogmatism,  and  practice  a  free- 


COLLAPSE  OF  THE   CHUKOHES        27 

dom  of  inquiry  which  acquaints  them  with  much 
that  is  best  in  modern  knowledge  and  experience, 
they  still  remain  denominational  institutions  apart 
from  the  main  current  of  life.  They  represent 
denominational  interests,  whose  character  is  de- 
termined by  historic  reactions  or  rebellions  from 
older  bodies,  and  whose  mission  is  the  service  of 
some  peculiar  opinion  or  habit  of  mind.  It  is  no 
accident  that  the  pews  of  these  liberal  churches  are 
even  emptier  than  those  of  the  more  conservative 
churches  which  they  seek  to  displace,  their  public 
influence  more  insignificant.  On  all  the  churches 
of  the  denominational  order,  which  means  pri- 
marily all  Protestant  churches,  liberal  and  orthodox 
alike,  has  fallen  the  same  blight  of  desuetude. 
Nobody  is  any  longer  interested  in  their  interests. 
How  strikingly  is  this  fact  emphasized  in  H.  G. 
Wells'^  The  Outline  of  History,  in  which  he  stops 
only  once,  in  his  more  than  twelve  hundred  pages, 
to  state  what  the  churches  think  about  man  and 
his  history,  and  then  to  confess  that  he  prefers  to 
disregard  it.  On  every  question  save  that  of  Jesus, 
Mr.  Wells  evidently  believes  that  the  attitude  of  the 
churches  is  so  unimportant  as  not  even  to  be  worth 
mentioning.  When  he  comes  to  the  figure  of  the 
Nazarene,  however,  he  feels  constrained  to  pause — 
but  only  to  give  an  acknowledgment  to  theological 
interest  and  opinion  which  it  is  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish from  contempt.  Speaking  of  the  Christian 
^^persuasions"  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  "much 
more  than  a  human  teacher,  and  his  appearance  in 


28  NEW   CHUECHES    FOB    OLD 

the  world  not  a  natural  event  in  history/'  he  goes 
on  gently  to  point  out  that  these  ^^persuasions  are 
not  the  persuasions  of  the  great  majority  of  man- 
kind.'' Therefore,  he  says,  ^Ve  shall  hold  closely 
to  the  apparent  facts,  and  avoid  .  .  .  the  theo- 
logical interpretations  which  have  been  imposed 
upon  them.  We  shall  tell  what  men  have  believed 
about  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  but  him  we  shall  treat  as 
being  what  he  appeared  to  be,  a  man.  .  ,  .  The 
documents  that  testify  to  his  acts  and  teachings, 
we  shall  treat  as  ordinary  human  documents  ... 
About  Jesus  we  have  to  write  not  theology  but  his- 
tory, and  our  concern  is  not  with  the  spiritual  and 
theological  significance  of  his  life,  but  with  its 
effects  upon  the  political  and  everyday  life  of 
men."  ^ 

IV 

Mention  of  Mr.  Wells's  Outline  brings  us  to  our 
second  statement  as  to  what  is  the  trouble  with  the 
churches.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  it  must  be  said  that 
the  churches  are  concerned  with  matters  in  which 
the  modern  man  has  little  or  no  interest,  so,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  must  be  said  that  they  are  not  con- 
cerned with  matters  in  which  the  modern  man  has 
the  most  absorbing  interest.  The  churches,  to  their 
bitter  cost,  return  the  compliment  of  man's  refusal 
to  be  interested  in  theological  or  ecclesiastical 
matters,  by  refusing  themselves  to  be  interested  in 
political,  economic  and  social  matters.      They  are 


^Volume  I,  page  573. 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES        29 

alienated  from  the  world,  in  other  words,  not  only 
because  they  give  peculiar  attention  to  their  own 
esoteric  affairs  of  faith,  worship  and  organization, 
but  also  because  they  refuse  or  neglect  to  share  this 
attention  with  the  affairs  of  the  every-day  life  of 
men.  What  would  men  care  how  much  the 
churches  played  with  their  creeds  and  symbols,  if 
only  they  gave  their  main  strength  to  the  business 
of  "Grod's  commonweal/' 

All  this  is  impressively  illustrated  in  The  Outline 
of  History.  In  the  earlier  portions  of  his  remark- 
able story  of  the  western  world,  Mr.  Wells  gives  due 
place  to  the  great  work  of  the  Christian  church  in 
forwarding  the  achievement  of  man's  primary  task 
of  securing  a  unified  society  upon  earth.  ^^Thanks 
to  Christianity,"  he  says,  in  speaking  of  the  middle 
period  of  the  eighteenth  century  in  Europe,  "ideas 
of  human  solidarity  were  far  more  widely  dif- 
fused" ^  than  they  had  ever  been  before  in  human 
history.  With  the  opening,  however,  of  that 
modern  era  which  begins  with  "the  new  democratic 
republics  of  America  and  France,"  following  hard 
upon  the  epoch  of  the  Illumination  in  France  and 
Germany,  the  churches  disappear  from  Mr.  Wells's 
book  as  though  swallowed  by  some  extraordinary 
convulsion  of  Nature.  Only  twice  in  the  last  two- 
thirds  of  his  second  volume,  which  tells  the  story 
of  western  Europe  and  America  from  1770  to  1919, 
are  the  churches  mentioned  at  all.  In  the  one  case, 
the  author  speaks  of  the  spread  of  popular  edu- 


^  Volume  II,  page  394, 


30  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE   OLD 

cation  in  England  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and 
points  out  that  ^^the  disputes  of  the  sects  and  the 
necessity  of  catching  adherents  young,  had  pro- 
duced an  abundance  of  night  schools,  Sunday 
schools,  and  a  series  of  competing  educational 
organizations  for  children.''  ^  In  the  other  case, 
he  tells  of  Darwin's  establishment  in  modern 
science  of  the  theory  of  evolution,  and  describes  the 
futile  opposition  of  ^^formal  Christianity"^  to  the 
new  era  of  enlightenment.  Aside  from  these  two 
passing  references  to  insignificant  and  hardly 
creditable  activities  on  the  part  of  organized 
religion,  we  would  never  know,  from  Mr.  Wells's 
narrative,  that  there  were  such  institutions  in  the 
western  world  as  Catholic  and  Protestant  churches. 
And  yet  he  is  telling  in  this  portion  of  his  story  of 
the  events  which  mark  the  climax  of  modern 
history — the  political  revolutions  of  the  last  quarter 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  industrial  revo- 
lution of  the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, the  scientific  renaissance  of  the  evolution 
period,  the  flowering  in  manifold  good  works  of 
social  and  humanitarian  idealism,  the  rise  of 
Socialism,  the  organization  of  trade  unions,  the 
genesis  of  the  class  struggle,  the  development  of 
nationalistic  imperialism,  the  Great  War,  the  Rus- 
sian revolution,  and  the  Peace!  Never  have  so 
many  world-changing  and  world-shaking  events 
been  crowded  into  so  short  a  period  of  time.    Never 


*  Volume  II,   page  396. 
3  Volume  IJ,  page  421* 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES        31 

have  such  forces  been  let  loose  in  society,  to  the 
weal  or  woe  of  men.  It  is  these  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  that  determine  the  destiny  of  all  that 
the  race  has  been  striving  for  these  twenty  cen- 
turies, this  period  which  has  prepared  the  final 
dissolution  or  redemption  (who  can  forecast  the 
future?)  of  civilization.  But  in  all  this  era  of 
stupendous  upheaval  and  cataclysmic  change,  the 
churches,  according  to  Mr.  Wells's  testimony,  have 
done  nothing  worth  mentioning.  Aside  from  sec- 
tarian jealousies  and  squabbles  which  unwittingly 
helped  on  the  cause  of  popular  education,  and  an 
utterly  ridiculous  opposition  to  the  greatest  single 
scientific  achievement  since  Isaac  Newton,  the 
record  of  the  churches,  in  the  affairs  of  modern 
times,  is  nil. 

That  Mr.  Wells's  judgment  in  this  matter — wholly 
unconscious  and  therefore  unintentioned — is  to  be 
trusted,  we  implicitly  believe.  In  nothing  is  the 
story  of  our  age  more  remarkable  than  in  the  failure 
of  organized  religion  to  play  that  important  part  in 
the  determination  of  events  which  marked  its 
activity  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  in  the  later 
more  stirring  period  of  the  Reformation.  How  can 
this  fact  be  explained  save  on  the  theory  that  the 
churches  are  not  interested  in  those  things  which 
most  concern  the  life  of  the  modern  man?  The 
story  of  modern  history,  as  Mr.  Wells  outlines  it  in 
his  book,  shows  clearly  enough  what  these  things 
are.  They  are  the  conditions  of  his  daily  life  and 
labor,  his  conquest  of  the  ills  which  sap  his  strength 


32  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

and  blast  his  happiness,  his  struggles  against  in- 
justices that  deny  him  liberty,  exploit  his  toil  and 
rob  his  children  of  their  heritage.  They  are  the 
dreams  and  passions  of  his  soul,  writ  large  for  our 
instruction  in  the  great  movements  of  social  better- 
ment which  have  swept  the  world  like  cleansing 
floods  in  the  last  one  hundred  years.  The  suppres- 
sion of  the  slave  trade,  the  abolition  of  chattel 
servitude  in  America,  the  extension  of  the  franchise, 
the  advancement  of  education,  the  emancipation  of 
women  and  of  labor,  the  care  and  protection  of 
children,  disarmament  and  international  peace, 
social  justice  as  applied  to  wages,  hours,  employ- 
ment, housing,  health,  public  ownership  of  natural 
resources  and  democratic  control  of  industry — 
these  are  the  things  which  have  held  his  heart,  and 
prompted  glad  hazard  even  of  life  on  their  behalf. 
These,  and  not  the  Fall,  the  Incarnation  and  the 
Atonement,  constitute  the  drama  of  human  destiny, 
as  we  understand  it  at  this  moment;  and  it  is  in 
the  cast  of  this  drama,  that  the  churches,  both 
Protestant  and  Catholic,  do  not  appear  at  all.  In 
only  one  of  these  great  movements,  in  which  the 
interest  of  men  has  been  so  intimately  involved, 
have  the  churches  been  active  agents  of  reform.  We 
refer,  of  course,  to  the  struggle  for  the  prohibition 
of  alcoholic  beverages,  which  was  made  exceptional 
by  the  presence  of  unusual  conditions  of  agitation. 
In  every  other  movement  of  the  kind,  the  churches 
have  been  either  indifferent  or  ineffective — or,  as 
in  the  anti-slavery  movement  yesterday  and  the 


COLLAPSE   OF   THE   CHURCHES        33 

labor   movement   today — utterly   and   shamelessly 
antagonistic. 

In  saying  this,  we  are  not  unmindful  of  the  fact 
that  there  have  been  great  leaders  in  the  churches, 
from  William  Ellery  Channing  and  Theodore  Par- 
ker on  the  one  hand  to  Josiah  Strong,  Washington 
Gladden  and  Walter  Rauschenbusch  on  the  other, 
who  have  interpreted  religion  in  terms  of  those 
ideals  and  movements  of  social  change  which  hold 
the  interest,  because  they  promise  the  fulfillment, 
of  man's  life.  But  these  prophets,  like  the  prophets 
which  were  before  them,  have  been  as  voices  crying 
in  the  wilderness!  Neither  do  we  forget  that,  in 
recent  years,  the  official  bodies  of  many  of  our  de- 
nominations, made  keenly  sensitive  to  the  obligation 
of  the  churches  to  enter  sympathetically  and  help- 
fully into  the  every-day  life  of  men,  have  formu- 
lated platforms  of  social  betterment  which  do  credit 
to  the  enlightenment  and  courage  of  the  men  respon- 
sible for  their  enactment.  But  these  platforms, 
like  the  latter-day  platforms  of  our  political  parties, 
are  fine  words  seldom  translated  into  deeds!  Say 
what  we  will,  hope  what  we  may,  the  churches  that 
stand  in  rural  lanes  and  in  city  avenues  are  not 
interested  in  the  social  passions  of  the  hour.  They 
do  not  function  in  those  fields  of  life  which  are  to- 
day being  watered  by  the  tears  and  blood  of  men. 
They  are  of  no  effect  in  politics;  they  are  heedless 
or  openly  hostile  to  labor's  struggle  for  emancipa- 
tion; they  are  silent  on  the  woes  of  women;  they 
are  nationalistic  sycophants  in  the  vast  issues  of 


34  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

war  and  peace;  even  in  the  traditional  activities  of 
charity  and  social  welfare,  they  are  all  but  ousted 
from  the  field  by  special  agencies  created  to  do  work 
which  the  churches  should  never  have  allowed  to 
pass  from  their  control.  All  about  us  are  the  press- 
ing problems  of  modern  life,  in  their  manifold 
political,  economic  and  industrial  phases.  These 
problems  are  stirring  men  to  the  bottom  of  their 
souls,  prompting  them  to  sacrifices  akin  to  those  of 
the  early  Christian  martyrs,  because  they  know  that 
out  of  these  proceed  the  issues  of  life.  They  are  the 
only  things  worth  living  for,  certainly  the  onl;y 
things  worth  dying  for,  at  this  present  hour.  They 
are  the  things  that  count  today  in  the  vast  concern 
of  man's  spiritual  destiny.  Here  is  religion,  if 
there  is  any  such  thing  as  religion  apart  from 
sordid  superstitions  and  routine  rites.  But  the 
churches,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  valiant  proph- 
ets and  wise  counselors,  do  not  care.  Men  may 
sweat  and  bleed  and  miserably  die,  but  the  churches 
are  concerned  with  other  things.  Like  waves  of 
the  sea  surge  the  social  controversies  of  our  time  in 
streets  and  homes,  in  factories,  state-houses  and 
universities.  The  noise  of  these  controversies  is  as 
the  noise  of  many  waters;  it  is  a  roar  that  shakes 
the  world,  and  the  heart  of  mankind.  But  in  the 
churches,  as  the  ocean  in  the  dungeons  of  Scott's 
Lindisfarne,  it  sounds  only  as 

"...    a  distant  roll,    .    .    . 

For  though  this  vault  of  sin  and  fear 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHUECHES        35 

Was  to  the  sounding  surge  so  near, 
A  tempest  there  you  scarce  could  hear, 
So  massive  were  the  walls."* 


This,  as  we  see  it,  is  the  trouble  with  the  churches. 
They  are  interested  in  what  does  not  concern  the 
modern  man;  and  not  interested  in  what  does  con- 
cern the  modern  man.  Hence  the  gulf  of  separation 
which  now  divides  the  churches  from  the  world! 
But  why  should  such  a  gulf  have  ever  appeared? 
What  forces  have  been  at  work  thus  to  alienate  the 
churches  from  society,  and  society  from  the 
churches? 

To  this  question  there  are  offered  various  an- 
swers. The  strict  religionist — a  Catholic,  for  exam- 
ple— will  declare  that  we  have  here  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  the  severance  which  must  ever  exist 
between  a  divine  institution  and  a  fallen  world. 
Men  are  not  interested  in  the  church  because  they 
are  corrupt,  and  thus  concerned  with  transient 
things,  from  which  it  is  the  church's  business  to 
deliver  them.  The  church  is  in  the  world,  as  the 
condition  of  fulfilling  its  appointed  mission  of  salva- 
tion; bmt  it  is  not,  and  cannot  be,  of  the  world. 
The  cause  of  this  tragic  separation,  therefore,  is  the 
wickedness  of  the  human  heart.  If  it  is  to  be  ended, 
it  must  be  through  the  surrender  of  men  to  the  com- 
pulsions  of   God   as   mediated   through   his   holy 


*  Marmion,  Canto  IIL 


S6  NEW   CHUECHES    FOE    OLD 

church,  and  not  through  the  surrender  of  this 
church  to  those  enticements  of  Satan  which  are 
^^the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  all  the  glory  of 
them.'' 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  the  answer  of  the 
rationalist,  or  materialist,  who  sees  in  this  aliena- 
tion the  sign  of  the  corruption  not  of  the  world  but 
of  the  church.  Eeligion,  to  his  way  of  thinking, 
is  an  out-and-out  superstition,  that  is  all ;  and  it  is 
the  great  achievement  of  the  age  to  have  discovered 
the  sham,  and  delivered  society  from  its  bondage. 
The  present-day  separation  of  men  from  the  church, 
therefore,  is  simply  a  chapter  in  the  attainment  of 
human  liberty.  Men  are  through  with  religion,  as 
they  are  through  with  magic;  through  with  the 
priest  and  his  altar,  as  they  are  through  with  the 
magician  and  his  wand.  For  centuries,  they  have 
been  held  in  the  darkness  of  cult  and  creed.  Now 
they  are  on  the  highroad,  in  the  light,  among  the 
winds — free  men  forevermore! 

With  neither  of  these  answers  to  our  question,  are 
w^e  satisfied.  For  one  thing,  we  do  not  believe  that 
religion  is  a  superstition.  On  the  contrary,  we  hold 
with  John  Fiske  in  his  affirmation  of  ^^the  ever- 
lasting reality  of  religion.''  For  religion  is  to  be 
regarded  as  the  effort  of  man  to  win  the  best  and 
highest  that  he  knows.  It  is  the  struggle  to  estab- 
lish upon  the  earth  the  utmost  of  the  dreams  and 
visions  of  his  soul.  It  is  the  endeavor  to  move  on- 
ward and  upward  out  of  past  darkness  and  confu- 
sion and  hate  into   future  light  and   order  and 


COLLAPSE   OF  THE   CHURCHES        37 

brotherly  love,  through  the  motive  power  of  the 
spirit  which,  as  Henry  Adams  has  put  it  in  his 
Education^  ^4s  the  highest  energy  ever  known  to 
man.''  Interpreted  in  this  sense,  religion  is  as  ever- 
lasting as  the  stars,  as  permanent  as  "the  founda- 
tions of  the  earth."  So  long  as  man  endures, 
religion  will  endure  as  the 

"Center  and  soul  of  every  sphere'^ 

of  his  true  being. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  we  have  no  confi- 
dence in  the  churches,  either  Protestant  or  Cath- 
olic, liberal  or  orthodox,  as  they  exist  and  work 
among  us  at  the  present  moment.  He  who  imagines 
that  religion  is  to  be  found  in  the  churches,  save 
as  it  appears  in  the  lives  of  devoted  individuals 
who  may  belong  to  them,  confuses  "churchianity" 
with  Christianity,  and  ecclesiasticism  and  theology 
with  the  high  things  of  the  spirit.  The  churches  are 
apart  from  life,  as  we  have  seen,  and  therefore 
apart  from  true  religion.  They  serve  no  purposes 
of  vital  moment,  are  directed  to  no  ends  of  eternal 
and  universal  portent.  There  was  a  time  when 
religion  was  in  the  churches.  It  was  the  time  when 
men  and  women  were  willing  to  die  for  the  altars 
at  which  they  worshiped,  and  the  creeds  in  which 
they  believed.  Who  thinks  it  worth  while,  however, 
to  lay  down  his  life  for  the  churches  today?  Who 
would  go  to  the  gibbet,  or  the  stake,  or  the  cross, 
stop  the  mouths  of  lions,  "be  stoned,  sawn  asunder, 
slain  with  the  sword,  wander  about  in  sheepskins 


38  NEW  CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

and  goatskins,  ♦  *  *  in  deserts  and  in  moun- 
tains, in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,''  for  the  sake 
of  Presbyterianism,  Episcopalianism,  Methodism, 
Universalism,  even  Protestantism?  How  change  so 
lightly  from  one  church  to  another,  or  abandon 
churches  altogether,  if  such  loyalties  really  matter? 
It  is  not  that  men  have  forgotten  how  to  die  or  to  be 
loyal.  The  call  of  country  summoned  men  in  the 
Great  War  to  sacrifices  which  it  is  inconceivable 
they  would  have  made  for  any  church.  Which 
means  that  religion  has  disappeared  from  the 
churches  as  water  from  a  reservoir,  not  because  the 
springs  have  run  dry,  but  because  they  flow  in  other 
courses ! 

Something  has  happened.  Eeligion  and  life  are 
apart,  not  because  life  is  wicked  or  religion  a  sham, 
but  because,  as  always  in  such  cases,  flooding 
streams  have  broken  loose  from  channels  built  too 
narrow  to  contain  them.  Religion  and  life  are 
apart  because  men  believe  that  they  should  be 
apart,  and  labor  to  keep  them  apart.  The  fruit  of 
their  labor,  and  of  their  failure  in  this  labor,  is 
Denominationalism.  Failure,  of  course,  was  cer- 
tain, for  religion  is  life,  and  cannot  in  the  nature  of 
things  be  kept  apart  from  life.  The  discovery  and 
proclamation  of  this  eternal  truth  in  our  time  is 
Democracy.  The  study  of  these  two  movements  is 
now  before  us,  as  the  pathway  to  that  new  religion 
which  shall  give  us  new  churches  for  old. 


CHAPTER  II 

DENOMINATIONALISM :  EELIGION  IN 
THE    CHUECHES 


^*Let  religion  be  seized  on  by  sects,  as  their  special 
province;  let  them  clothe  themselves  with  God's  prerog- 
ative of  judgment;  let  them  succeed  in  enforcing  their 
creed  by  penalties  of  law  or  opinion;  and  religion  be- 
comes the  most  blighting  tyranny  which  can  establish 
itself  over  the  mind.  .  .  .  When  I  see  the  superstition 
which  it  has  fastened  on  the  conscience,  .  .  .  the  dread 
of  inquiry  which  it  has  struck  into  superior  understand- 
ings, and  the  servility  of  spirit  which  it  has  made  to 
pass  for  piety — when  I  see  all  this,  the  fire,  and  scaffold, 
and  the  outward  inquisition,  terrible  as  they  are,  seem 
to  me  inferior  evils.  ...  A  sect  skilfully  organized, 
trained  to  utter  one  cry,  combined  to  cover  with  re- 
proach whoever  may  differ  from  themselves,  to  strike  ter- 
ror into  the  multitude  by  joint  and  perpetual  menace — 
such  a  sect  is  as  perilous  and  palsying  to  the  intellect 
as  the  Inquisition.  .  .  .  The  present  age  is  notoriously 
sectarian  and  therefore  hostile  to  liberty.  .  .  .  Hap- 
pily, the  spirit  of  the  people,  in  spite  of  all  narrowing 
influences,  is  essentially  liberal.  Here  lies  our  safety. 
The  liberal  spirit  of  the  people,  I  trust,  is  more  and  more 
to  temper  and  curb  that  exclusive  spirit  which  is  the 
besetting  sin  of  their  religious  guides/' 

William  Ellery  Channing,  in 

Spiritual  Freedom 


CHAPTER  II 

DENOMINATIONALISM:  RELIGION  IN 
THE    CHURCHES 


When  we  speak  of  denominationalism,  we  are 
inclined  to  limit  attention  to  the  Protestant  world. 
We  have  been  taught  to  believe  that  this  phenom- 
enon of  separation  is  a  unique  characteristic  of  Prot- 
estantism, and  to  imagine  therefore  that  it  began 
to  play  its  part  in  the  religious  life  of  man  only 
with  the  coming  of  the  Reformation.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  however,  denominationalism,  in  origin  at 
least,  if  not  in  outward  form  and  ultimate  develop- 
ment, is  quite  as  much  an  incident  of  Catholic  as  of 
Protestant  history.  Its  spirit  and  tendency  first 
entered  into  Christianity  in  that  famous  council  at 
Jerusalem,  where  Peter  and  Paul  agreed  to  divide 
the  Roman  world  between  them — Peter  and  the 
apostles  to  take  Palestine  as  their  field,  and  Paul 
to  launch  out  upon  the  vast  expanse  of  the  Gentile 
empire.  Its  divisive  power  first  made  appearance 
at  the  great  Council  of  Nicaea,  in  325  a.d.,  when 
the  body  of  Christendom  was  divided  into  Arians 
and  Athanasians.  The  movement  reached  climax 
in  the  eleventh  century,  when  the  western  church  at 

41 


42  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

Eome  separated  from  the  eastern  church  at  Con- 
stantinople. All  through  the  Middle  Ages  denom- 
inationalism  found  expression  in  the  so-called  heret- 
ical sects,  which  refused  obedience  to  the  papal 
hierarchy  in  expression  of  their  own  separate  ideals 
and  purposes  as  independent  Christians.  Some- 
times, as  in  the  case  of  the  Cathari,  for  example, 
these  sects  were  composed  of  obscure  and  humble 
folk,  and  had  little  influence  in  the  development  of 
religious  thought.  Sometimes,  however,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Albigenses  against  whom  Simon  de 
Montfort  led  his  barbarous  crusade,  they  were  large 
and  powerful  groups,  and  had  a  profound  effect  upon 
the  spiritual  progress  of  the  times.  In  either  case, 
they  were  in  essence  denominations,  although  they 
were  never  recognized  as  such,  and  never  allowed 
by  the  dominant  group  in  the  Roman  church  to 
develop  an  independent  life  or  hold  an  official  place 
in  the  ecclesiastical  world.  In  spite  of  all  the  pre- 
tensions of  the  medieval  hierarchy  to  universality 
and  uniformity,  it  was  divided  within  itself  from 
the  beginning,  it  marked  always  with  unmistakable 
clearness  and  frequently  with  cruel  hate  the  dis- 
tinction between  orthodox  and  heretic,  and  in  the 
end  it  banished  altogether  from  its  circle  those  who 
steadfastly  refused  obedience. 

II 

What  these  nonconformists  were  after,  of  course, 
was  liberty — that  "liberty  to  know,  utter  and  argue 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    43 

freely  according  to  conscience''  which  John  Milton 
declared  should  be  cherished  "above  all  liberties." 
They  wanted  to  be  free  to  find  God  for  themselves, 
and  to  worship  and  serve  God  in  their  own  way  and 
to  their  own  ends.  In  this  sense,  they  were  the  pio- 
neers of  spiritual  autonomy.  There  was  no  basis, 
however,  for  this  ideal  until  the  Renaissance  had 
made  the  rediscovery  of  the  individual  which  marks 
the  first  step  in  the  achievement  of  democracy,  and 
therefore  the  opening  of  modern  times.  Further- 
more, there  was  no  opportunity  for  the  successful 
practice  of  this  ideal,  on  any  other  terms  than 
those  of  martyrdom,  until  the  release  of  human 
energy,  incident  to  the  Renaissance,  had  overthrown 
the  temporal  power  of  the  Papacy.  Then  came  the 
Reformation,  which  was  the  deliberate  setting  of 
the  soul  over  against  the  institution  as  the  source 
of  life  and  the  center  of  authority.  The  individual, 
now  happily  delivered  from  external  control,  took 
into  his  own  hands  the  determination  of  his  spirit- 
ual destiny.  He  resolved,  like  Moses,  to  meet  God 
face  to  face,  and  learn  of  him  direct,  and  not  by  the 
mediation  of  any  priest  or  synod,  the  command- 
ments of  his  will.  A  symbol  of  this  emancipation 
is  seen  in  what  is  known  in  history  as  the  "unchain- 
ing" of  the  Bible.  In  medieval  times,  the  holy 
book  in  the  cathedral  or  the  village  church  was 
always  chained  to  the  desk,  in  order  that  it  might 
not  be  taken  away  and  read  by  unsanctified  eyes. 
The  medieval  priests  did  not  dare  to  let  the  people 
study  the  Scriptures,  for  this  would  mean  that  by 


44  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

themselves,  not  merely  by  the  mediatory  power  of 
church  officers,  could  the  souls  of  men  be  brought  to 
God.  The  moment,  however,  that  the  Papacy  was 
cast  aside,  the  chains  on  the  pulpit  Bibles  in  all 
Protestant  countries  were  removed,  as  a  sign  that  the 
Word  of  God,  and  therefore  his  salvation,  was  now 
free  to  all.  Wycliff's  translation  of  the  Scriptures 
into  the  vernacular  was  an  anticipation  of  this  day 
of  deliverance,  and  therefore  a  heresy.  Luther's 
German  Bible  was  the  sign  and  seal  of  the  victory 
achieved  by  his  movement  of  revolt.  That  each 
humblest  man  could  open  his  own  testament,  and 
there  in  his  own  heart  speak  with  God  and  learn 
of  him — ^this  was  the  essence  of  Protestantism,  and 
marked  the  significance  of  the  spiritual  transfor- 
mation which  was  consummated  by  this  tremendous 
event. 

Such  deliverance  of  the  individual  from  the 
church,  however,  could  not  end  in  any  such  disso- 
lution of  old  relationships  as  this.  It  was  inevita- 
ble that  new  associations  should  be  formed  to  take 
the  place  of  the  old,  for  a  religion  without  a  church 
is  as  inconceivable  as  a  soul  without  a  body.  The 
spirit,  in  other  words,  must  "become  flesh" ;  and  it 
did  so  by  organizing  itself  around  the  different 
interpretations  which  diflferent  men  placed  upon 
this  Bible  which  had  now  become  a  matter  of  such 
curious  and  intense  interest.  Each  leader,  having 
found  God  for  himself — i.  e,y  out  of  his  own  experi- 
ence!— 'hastened  to  bring  other  men  to  the  same 
experience.     This  meant,  of  course,  since  the  age 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHUKCHES    45 

for  the  moment  was  one  of  extravagant  individual 
adventuring,  many  leaders,  many  movements,  many 
groupings,  many  churches.  It  meant,  in  a  word, 
"denominationalism"  as  we  have  known  it  in  its 
true  estate  for  the  last  four  hundred  years.  Within 
a  century  after  the  advent  of  Martin  Luther,  scores 
of  competitive  and  mutually  antagonistic  sects  were 
in  the  field.  Today  the  number  of  Protestant 
denominations  is  variously  estimated  from  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred.  The  last  relig- 
ious census  of  the  United  States  showed  that  there 
were  more  than  one  hundred  and  sixty  separate 
denominations  in  this  country  alone.  Few  of  us 
could  name  more  than  twenty  or  thirty  of  these 
ecclesiastical  groups,  and  we  wonder  what  are 
the  units  which  make  up  so  large  a  total.  But 
when  we  recall  that  many  of  our  churches  have 
divisions  "north''  and  "south,"  dating  from  Civil 
War  days;  and  that  one  comparatively  obscure 
sect,  the  Mennonites,  is  cut  up  into  no  less  than 
sixteen  denominational  sectors — Ammish  Mennon- 
ites, Old  Mennonites,  New  Mennonites,  Swiss  Men- 
nonites, Defenseless  Mennonites,  and  so  on — we 
begin  to  realize  what  the  fact  of  denominationalism 
really  means.  The  body  of  Christ  is  suddenly  seen 
to  be  divided  like  the  body  of  Osiris  in  the  old 
Egyptian  myth,  and,  like  his,  to  be  scattered  in 
pieces  about  the  world! 

^  III 

To  many  persons,  in  our  time,  this  phenomenon 
of  denominationalism  is  frankly  regarded  as  an 


46  NEW  CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

evil  thing  for  which  there  is  no  excuse.  It  is  one 
of  the  signs  and  causes  of  that  collapse  of  organized 
religion  which  was  duly  noted  in  the  last  chapter. 
To  others,  however,  this  division  of  the  churches  is 
only  the  price  which  must  be  paid  for  that  spiritual 
liberty  in  which  Protestantism  had  its  glorious 
beginning.  Such  persons  declare  that  it  is  not 
denominationalism  in  itself,  but  only  the  abuse  of 
denominationalism,  which  has  in  our  time  aroused 
the  concern  of  the  Christian  world.  It  is  inevitable, 
they  argue,  that  free  men  should  see  the  facts  of 
life  differently,  and  undertake  to  interpret  them  in 
different  ways  and  to  different  ends.  It  is  no  more 
possible,  nor  even  desirable,  that  men  should  think 
alike  in  their  spiritual  concerns,  than  that  they 
should  think  alike  in  their  political  and  economic 
concerns.    Just  as  long  as  men  exercise  the  right 

"To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield," 

they  will  disagree  as  to  conclusions;  and  just  so 
long  as  they  disagree,  they  will  divide  into  groups 
or  parties  for  the  advocacy  of  these  conclusions. 
The  only  alternatives  to  such  division  are  a  volun- 
tary "mush  of  concession"  or  an  involuntary  mash 
of  repression,  to  neither  of  which  the  free  man  will 
consent.  Just  to  the  extent  that  he  understands 
the  worth  of  the  religious  consciousness  and  rever- 
ences the  truth,  he  will  insist  upon  bearing  witness 
to  what  he  sees,  joining  himself  gladly  to  others 
who  see  what  he  sees,  and  striving  ardently  to  bring 
still  others  to  his  own  angle  of  vision.     It  was  this 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    47 

spirit  against  which  for  many  centuries  the  medie- 
val church  fought  doggedly,  and  at  last  futilely. 
In  the  great  upheaval  of  the  Reformation,  the  uni- 
formity of  Catholicism  was  shattered  forever;  and 
there  came  into  the  world  these  beneficent  "varieties 
of  religious  experience''  which  in  the  spiritual  as 
in  the  physical  realm,  are  the  condition  of  normal 
development — indeed,  of  life  itself.  To  bemoan  the 
appearance  of  division,  is  to  bemoan  the  recrudes- 
cense  of  vitality;  to  seek  the  elimination  of  divi- 
sion, is  to  seek  the  restoration  of  that  ignoble  and 
sterile  unity  which  is  synonymous  with  death.  The 
body  of  Christ  is  not  in  reality  divided  by  the 
denominations  at  all !  On  the  contrary,  these  sects 
or  divisions  are  only  the  "many  members''  which  go 
to  make  up  the  one  body  of  Christ.  Our  difficulty 
has  been  not  that  there  are  "many  members,"  but 
that  these  members  have  not  functioned  coopera- 
tively to  a  single  end.  Not  the  use  but  the  abuse 
of  denominationalism,  therefore,  is  our  trouble.  Of 
course  w^e  would  be  free;  but  if  free,  we  must  be 
many  men  of  many  minds,  and  therefore  of  many 
churches. 

That  there  is  truth  in  this  contention,  cannot 
be  denied.  We  go  far  astray,  however,  if  we  believe 
that  denominationalism  is  a  phenomenon  exclu- 
sively, or  even  to  any  considerable  extent,  explained 
by  that  liberation  of  the  human  spirit  which  was 
the  gift  of  the  Renaissance  to  men.  This  in  itself 
would  never  have  produced  the  situation  which  now 
confronts  us,  as  it  has  long  confronted  us,  in  the 


48  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

Protestant  world.  For  what  we  see  today  is  not 
freedom,  but  factionalism ;  not  cooperation  but  com- 
petition ;  not  variety,  but  antagonism,  of  conviction ; 
not  group  vying  with  group  in  friendly  rivalry, 
but  army  fighting  army  to  the  death.  In  other 
fields  of  life,  freedom  has  not  necessarily  meant 
division,  or  love  of  truth  the  severance  of  human 
comradeship.  In  science,  for  example,  savants  of 
every  variety  of  doctrine  and  speculation  work 
happily  together  in  one  all-inclusive  society,  royal 
or  otherwise.  They  differ  endlessly  among  them- 
selves, they  argue  and  debate  and  challenge,  they 
organize  groups  to  advance  one  theory  and  confute 
another;  but  they  maintain  unbroken  the  common 
society  of  which  they  are  all  members  together. 
There  is  no  "schism  in  (their)  body";  denomina- 
tionalism  is  impossible  in  their  world.  For  the  love 
of  truth,  in  which  they  share  together,  is  greater 
than  allegiance  to  any  particular  formulation  of 
that  truth;  and  the  spirit  of  freedom,  of  which 
they  all  partake  as  of  a  sacrament,  has  as  its  first 
exaction,  respect  and  tolerance  for  others. 

So  also  in  the  social  or  political  field !  Here  are 
we  all  citizens  of  one  great  country.  Does  this 
mean  that  we  all  think  alike  in  matters  pertaining 
to  the  ideals  and  practices  of  government?  Do  we 
maintain  "one  union  indivisible''  by  imposing  uni- 
formity of  opinion?  On  the  contrary,  we  free  citi- 
zens of  America  are  many  men  of  many  minds. 
Some  of  us  are  Republicans,  some  Democrats,  some 
Socialists.    Every  now  and  then  new  groups  appear, 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    49 

like  the  Greenbackers  or  the  Progressives.  But 
these  differences  of  political  opinion  do  not  tend  in 
any  way  to  divide  the  nation.  Partisan  warfare, 
as  we  call  it,  does  not  bring  us  to  the  point  where 
we  believe  that  any  one  group  must  withdraw  or  be 
banished  from  the  national  life  as  a  condition  of 
political  integrity.  We  have  tried  this  practice,  of 
course;  once  in  1861  by  the  method  of  secession, 
when  southern  Democrats  felt  they  could  not  stay 
in  the  same  country  with  northern  Republicans, 
and  once  in  1920  in  New  York  State,  when  Demo- 
crats and  Republicans  united  in  an  endeavor  to 
excommunicate  Socialists  from  American  citizen- 
ship. Both  experiments,  however,  were  failures, 
and  served  only  to  emphasize  the  basic  fact  that  we 
are  properly  and  pleasantly  the  inseparable  mem- 
bers of  one  political  household.  When  we  hold 
patriotic  meetings  (i.  e,,  the  religious  services  of  the 
state),  we  ignore  all  claims  of  partisanship.  First 
and  foremost,  we  are  Americans;  love  of  country 
transcends  and  dominates  within  our  hearts  all 
love  of  party. 

Strangely  enough,  also,  inside  our  religious  de- 
nominations, when  they  have  become  strongly 
enough  organized  to  certain  ends,  discordant  opin- 
ions have  appeared  without  causing  any  "schism 
in  the  body."  Take  the  Baptist  church,  for 
example,  which  has  been  from  the  beginning  a  noble 
exemplar  of  the  free  spirit.  In  this  one  fold  are 
found  men  as  far  apart  as  President  Faunce,  of 
Brown  University,  a  liberal  of  liberals,  and  Dr. 


50  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

Haldeman,  of  New  York,  a  pre-millenialite  of  the 
extreme  order.  These  men  and  their  followers 
agree,  in  all  probability,  upon  no  one  fact  of 
theological  belief,  but  both  find  place  and  are 
granted  recognition  in  the  single  organization  of 
the  Baptist  communion.  The  Episcopal  church 
presents  another  instance  of  the  same  truth.  Here, 
more  than  in  any  other  Protestant  denomination, 
the  catholic  idea  of  the  church  has  survived,  and 
reverence  for  the  church  as  an  institution  has  kept 
its  hold  upon  the  heart  of  the  individual.  For  this 
reason,  among  others,  this  denomination  succeeds 
in  maintaining  organic  unity  amid  wide  diversities 
of  opinion  and  operation  better  than  any  other 
denomination  of  the  present  day.  For  years,  in 
England,  the  established  church  has  been  divided 
into  the  low  church,  the  broad  church  and  the  high 
church.  The  gulf  which  divides  the  extreme  low 
churchman  from  the  extreme  high  churchman  in 
Episcopacy,  is  much  wider  than  that  which  divides 
the  low  churchman  from  the  Congregationalist,  the 
Congregationalist  from  the  Universalist,  and  the 
Universalist  from  the  Unitarian;  and  yet  together 
these  two  precisely  opposite  types  of  religious  faith 
and  outlook  live  in  the  same  fold  and  cooperate 
with  rare  happiness  and  efficiency  in  the  task  in 
hand. 

Freedom  does  not  explain  the  phenomenon  of 
denominationalism.      There  is  something  more  in- 
volved here  than  the  right  of  the  individual  to  find 
,  and  maintain  his  own  spiritual  opinion. 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHUKCHES    51 

IV 

It  is  not  diflQcult  to  get  on  the  track  of  the  further 
factors  that  are  involved  in  the  denominationalism 
of  our  time  if  we  recognize  what  is  so  frequently 
forgotten,  ignored,  or  not  known  at  all,  that  the 
Protestant  Reformation,  whatever  it  was  in  the 
beginning,  was  in  the  end  not  an  expression  of,  but 
a  reaction  against,  the  Renaissance.  The  reformers 
themselves  were  made  possible  by  that  free  spirit 
which  came  into  the  world  with  the  Revival  of 
Learning  in  the  thirteenth  century.  They  were 
able  to  enjoy  what  never  came  to  their  martyred 
forbears  of  earlier  ages — the  boon  of  spiritual 
autonomy.  No  sooner,  however,  had  this  move- 
ment, primarily  directed  against  the  Papacy,  at- 
tained its  end  of  freedom,  than  immediately  it 
turned  back  upon  itself  and  betrayed  the  ideal 
which  had  given  it  birth.  The  forces  which  led  to 
this  reaction,  and  thus  made  Protestantism  in  the 
end  a  repressive  rather  than  an  emancipating  force 
in  religion,  are  not  difficult  to  trace. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Bible  was  no  sooner 
released  from  the  control  of  the  church  than  it  was 
itself  elevated  to  a  position  of  authority.  So  poorly 
did  the  reformers  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
liberty  which  they  had  won,  that  they  straightway 
sought  a  substitute  for  the  hierarchy  which  had  held 
men  in  bondage  for  so  many  years,  and  found  this 
in  the  Holy  Word  which  men  were  everywhere 
studying  with  such  consuming  interest.    The  chains 


52  IJEW  CHUKCHES  FOR  OLD 

were  removed,  in  other  words,  only  to  be  replaced. 
Men  were  granted  freedom  to  read  and  study  the 
Scriptures,  only  to  be  enslaved  to  the  book  as  they 
had  formerly  been  enslaved  to  the  priest  who  read 
the  book.  Authority,  by  its  very  nature,  is  incon- 
sistent with  the  concept  of  liberty.  There  can  be 
no  real  freedom  in  the  world,  if  anything  other 
than  the  soul  of  man  is  regarded  as  divine.  If  a 
man  is  free,  it  means  of  necessity  that  he  is  released 
absolutely  from  the  control  of  external  power;  if 
he  is  subject  at  all,  it  is  only  to  those  august 
realities  of  the  inner  life  which  constitute  his  own 
essential  individuality.  It  was  this  idea  which 
was  implicit  in  the  Kenaissance,  and  which,  carried 
over  into  the  religious  field,  precipitated  the  initial 
stages  of  the  Eeformation.  But  man  was  not  yet 
ready  for  the  great  experience  of  the  open  air. 
Denied  one  shelter,  he  must  seek  another;  and  he 
found  it,  to  his  great  relief,  in  the  Bible.  From 
this  standpoint  the  Eeformation  accomplished 
nothing  but  the  substitution  of  the  Bible  for  the 
church  as  the  seat  of  authority  in  religion. 

Secondly,  there  is  that  intellectual  interpretation 
of  religion,  known  as  dogmatism,  which  has  con- 
trolled the  development  of  Christianity  ever  since 
the  days  of  Paul.  It  was  the  supreme  tragedy  of 
the  great  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles  that,  in  his  zeal 
for  Christ,  he  was  persuaded  to  substitute  doctrines 
about  the  Nazarene  for  life  lived  in  the  spirit  of 
his  word.  These  doctrines  might  not  have  been  so 
bad  if  they  had  concerned  the  moral  precepts  and 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    53 

spiritual  ideals  which  were  central  in  the  teachings 
of  Jesus;  but  under  the  influence  of  Paul,  they  were 
made  to  comprise  certain  theories  of  cosmology, 
history  and  divine  intention,  intellectual  acceptance 
of  which  was  described  as  necessary  to  salvation. 
From  this  developed  that  identification  of  truth 
with  dogma,  of  religion  with  theology,  which 
reached  its  full  flower  in  the  creeds  of  Protestant- 
ism. Men  read  the  Bible  to  find  out  from  this 
authoritative  source  what  it  was  necessary  to  be- 
lieve in  order  to  be  saved.  Different  men  reached 
different  conclusions  as  to  what  was  laid  down  in 
the  pages  of  Holy  Scripture.  Each  man  offered  his 
conclusion  not  as  his  humble  opinion  but  as  the 
irrefutable  revelation  of  the  divine  mind,  and  its 
acceptance  as  the  single  way  to  eternal  life.  With 
the  result  that  Protestantism  became  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  a  series  of  squabbles  between  rival 
theological  systems !  To  flock  about  the  banner  of 
the  one  true  faith,  to  lift  a  new  banner  if  none  of 
the  old  banners  carried  the  right  colors — this 
became  the  duty  of  every  devout  soul.  To  be  a 
Christian,  one  had  first  to  be  a  Lutheran,  a  Pres- 
byterian, or  a  Baptist.  To  live  like  Jesus  was  not 
enough;  the  essential  thing  was  to  believe  like 
Calvin,  Zwingli,  or  Arminius.  To  accept  an  idea 
about  the  being  of  God,  the  person  of  Christ,  or  the 
miracle  of  Transubstantiation — upon  such  weighty 
matters  hung  the  issues  of  life  and  death,  a  clear 
conscience  in  this  world  and  a  soul  redeemed  in  the 
world  that  is  to  come. 


54  NEW  CHUECHES  FOR  OLD 

Neither  Bibliolatry  nor  dogmatism,  liowever, 
would  have  created  the  situation  now  existing  in 
the  realm  of  Protestantism,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
third  and  decisive  factor — namely7  the  recovery  of 
the  spirit  and  weapons  of  intolerance  which  had 
been  momentarily  lost  in  the  spacious  days  follow- 
ing the  Renaissance.  Intolerance  always  and 
everywhere  is  the  real  secret  of  division.  It  is 
because  the  Roman  church  from  the  beginning  was 
intolerant  of  all  nonconformity,  that  denomina- 
tionalism,  as  we  have  seen,  was  a  factor  in  the 
Middle  Ages  as  well  as  in  the  Protestant  era  of  our 
history.  Every  time  a  group  of  heretics  was  driven 
from  the  bosom  of  the  church,  a  denomination  was 
created;  not  recognized  or  labeled  as  such,  but  a 
separatist  group  all  the  same.  It  was  this  same 
intolerance,  taken  over  by  the  reformers  to  serve 
their  purposes,  that  split  the  Protestant  world  into 
a  hundred  hostile  sects,  and  thus  brought  us  the 
melancholy  situation  in  which  we  live  at  the  present 
hour.  The  only  reason  why  the  Protestant 
churches  did  not  do  exactly  what  the  Catholic 
hierarchy  accomplished  in  its  great  days,  was  that 
no  one  of  these  churches  exercised  temporal  power 
over  any  considerable  area  of  territory.  They 
flourished  not  because  they  believed  in  and  prac- 
ticed freedom,  but  because  none  was  strong  enough 
to  overcome  the  others.  That  they  tried  hard 
enough,  however,  is  shown  by  what  Luther  did  to 
the  Saxon  peasants,  and  Calvin  to  Servetus;  by 
what  happened   to   the  Anabaptists   on  the   con- 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHUECHES    55 

tinent,  to  the  Separatists  in  England,  and  to  the 
Quakers  and  other  nonconformists  in  Puritan  New 
England.  Intolerance  was  the  fashion  of  the  hour. 
In  the  religious  field  at  least,  society  had  not 
advanced  a  step  beyond  the  dark  days  of  the 
Inquisition.  Men  had  suddenly  become  dispersed 
by  the  explosive  power  of  a  new  spirit  in  the  world, 
and  now  they  were  kept  apart  in  divisive  and  hostile 
groups  by  that  same  impulse  to  persecution  which 
had  formerly  held  them  together  in  one  cohesive 
mass. 

That  denominationalism  is  the  spawn  of  intoler- 
ance there  is  no  stronger  evidence  than  the  interest- 
ing fact  that,  in  the  case  of  many  of  even  our  great- 
est denominations,  there  was  no  intention  at  the 
start  of  forming  a  new  and  separate  grouping  of 
believers.  The  Puritans  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
for  example,  had  no  desire  to  leave  the  Establish- 
ment ;  they  sought  only,  as  their  name  indicates,  to 
remain  in  that  body  and  "purify''  its  habits  and 
customs.  They  were  emphatically  stay-inners  and 
not  come-outers.  It  was  only  when  king  and  bishop 
harried  them  from  the  land,  that  they  found  it 
necessary  to  build  their  own  churches  and  seek 
their  own  ways.  John  Wesley  led  the  mightiest 
religious  revolt  of  modern  times,  and  founded  the 
largest  denomination  in  the  Protestant  world 
today;  and  yet  never  at  any  time  in  his  long,  heroic 
and  fruitful  life,  did  he  count  himself  outside  the 
fold  of  Anglicanism.  The  home  church  closed  its 
doors  against  him^  drove  him  into  the  highways  and 


56  NEW  CHURCHES  FOE  OLD 

by-ways  to  preacli  his  word,  denounced  and  spat 
upon  him  even  as  the  Pharisees  denounced  and  spat 
upon  Christ ;  but  he  sought  only  as  a  good  member 
of  the  church,  in  obedient  exercise  of  "the  law  of 
liberty/'  to  widen  its  portals  for  the  entrance  of  the 
multitudes,  and  died  not  knowing  that  he  was  to 
be  remembered  as  the  founder  of  a  new  and  inde- 
pendent sect.  William  EUery  Channing,  the 
founder  of  American  Unitarianism,  refused  to 
regard  himself  as  anything  other  than  a  member  of 
"the  church  universal."  He  had  his  own  opinions 
about  the  Trinity,  and  taught  radical  doctrines  on 
the  matter  of  human  nature  and  the  free  soul ;  but 
it  was  never  his  desire  that  these  personal  heresies 
should  become  the  orthodoxies  of  a  new  denomina- 
tion. What  is  at  work  here  in  the  creation  of  these 
separate  divisions,  is  the  spirit  not  of  freedom  but 
of  intolerance.  Freedom  of  itself  would  never  have 
taken  one  of  these  men  out  of  their  churches;  on 
the  contrary,  it  would  have  widened  the  churches 
to  contain  the  men.  What  freedom  has  done  in  the 
Protestant  world  is  only  to  create  an  open  field  of 
opportunity,  in  which  intolerance  can  act  for  the 
rank  development  of  a  denominationalism  which 
was  impossible  under  the  triumphant  tyranny  of 
the  Papal  hierarchy. 

Denominationalism,  therefore,  is  no  evidence  of 
liberty.  It  offers  nothing  that  is  to  the  credit  of 
Protestantism.  In  essence  it  is  the  emergence,  into 
modern  times,  of  all  that  was  worst  in  the  medieval 
church.      Death^  and  not  life,  is  in  this  process. 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHUECHES    57 

For  this  is  a  warfare  of  the  members  which  defeats 
the  purpose  of  God  who  "hath  welded  the  body 
together/' 


This  judgment,  based  on  causes,  is  only  confirmed 
when  we  survey  results.  Three  things  are  con- 
spicuous in  Protestantism  as  we  know  it  today. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Protestant  denominations, 
by  the  very  nature  of  their  origin  and  life,  lay 
emphasis  upon  the  non-essentials  of  religious  experi- 
ence. It  is  always  those  facts  which  are  insignifi- 
cant, trivial,  picayune,  which  are  central  in  the 
consciousness  of  a  denominational  group.  Try  by 
thought  and  words  to  distinguish  one  denomination 
from  another,  and  how  often  do  you  find  yourself 
dealing  with  anything  that  is  essential  to  the  life 
of  man?  I  know  no  nobler  body  of  Christians  than 
the  Baptists.  I  never  think  of  this  church,  with  its 
heroic  prophets,  its  unsullied  loyalty  to  freedom, 
its  centuries-old  witness  through  suffering  and 
martyrdom  to  the  sanctity  of  the  truth,  but  what 
I  offer  an  inward  salutation  to  its  people  dead  and 
living.  But  when  I  am  challenged  to  describe  the 
Baptist  church — ^to  tell  how  it  is  distinguished 
from  the  Congregational  churches,  for  instance — I 
find  myself  driven  from  ideals  of  truth  and  legends 
of  heroism  to  the  unhappy  discussion  of  a  certain 
ritual  ceremony  known  as  "baptism."  I  am  forced 
to  point  out  that  here  is  a  group  of  Christians  who 
feel  that,  in  testimony  of  the  full  obedience  of  a 


m  NEW  CHUKCHES  FOR  OLD 

Christian  soul,  and  a  condition,  therefore,  of  mem- 
bership in  the  church,  a  person  must  undergo  the 
experience  of  baptism — and  baptism  not  by  sprink- 
ling but  by  immersion,  and  not  in  infant  but  in 
adult  years !  Why  this  pagan  rite  should  have  so 
central  a  place  in  the  life  of  any  group  of  Jesus's 
followers,  may  well  be  left  to  the  sober  doctors  of 
theology  to  decide;  but  to  one  who  takes  life  as  the 
evidence  of  Christian  character,  it  stands  at  once 
as  a  puzzle  and  a  humiliation. 

So  also  with  Unitarianism !  There  is  no  church, 
I  believe,  which  has  tried  more  faithfully  to  strike 
the  universal  note,  and  to  make  central  the  moral 
and  spiritual  content  of  the  teachings  of  the 
Nazarene.  The  Unitarians  have  long  claimed,  and 
not  unfairly,  that  their  church  is  to  be  distinguished 
from  all  others  by  its  emphasis  upon  character  and 
not  doctrinal  belief  as  the  evidence  of  Christian 
discipleship.  And  yet,  through  a  hundred  years  of 
teaching  and  example,  they  have  failed  to  gain 
acceptance  or  even  understanding  of  this  claim. 
Inevitably  when  defining  the  distinctive  character- 
istics of  the  Unitarian  denomination,^  one  finds 
oneself  talking  about  the  nature  of  man,  the  person 
of  Jesus,  the  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  a  dozen 
or  more  of  theological,  literary  and  historical 
problems  which  properly  have  no  place  in  the 
religious  life  per  se. 

When  we  move  away  from  the  most  conspicuous 


^  See    Ephriam    Emerton's     book,    significantly     entitled     Unitarian 
Beliefs. 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    59 

sects  of  Protestantism  to  those  obscure  and  curious 
sects  which  hold  the  devout  allegiance  of  earnest 
people  here  and  there,  we  find  the  system  gone  to 
seed,  so  to  speak,  in  points  of  doctrine  or  habits  of 
worship  which  are  so  insignificant  as  to  be  ludi- 
crous. The  Mennonites  are  a  noble  people  who 
have  purchased  their  liberty  with  precious  blood; 
but  what  are  we  to  think  of  the  contention  of  a 
considerable  group  of  Mennonites,  that  hooks  and 
eyes  must  be  used  instead  of  buttons  in  the  clothing 
of  Christian  men  and  women?  In  Pennsylvania 
there  is  a  sect  of  sober  folk  who  are  separated  from 
all  other  Christians  by  their  practice  of  perpetuat- 
ing the  oriental  ceremony  of  feet-washing.  This 
rite  seems  to  us,  in  this  western  world,  not  only 
ludicrous  but  ugly;  and  yet,  if  the  Bible  be  our 
infallible  authority,  have  not  these  Christians  good 
reason  for  contending  that  scrupulous  obedience  to 
Jesus's  example  must  include  this  practice  of  wash- 
ing one  another's  feet  quite  as  much  as  of  partak- 
ing of  the  so-called  Lord's  Supper?  The  Adventists 
can  find  no  Christianity  except  in  the  great  hope 
of  the  Second  Coming;  and  there  is  a  separate 
group  of  Adventists  who  find  it  obligatory  to  wor- 
ship God  on  the  seventh  and  not  on  the  first  day  of 
the  week.  So  the  trivialities,  and  all  too  often,  the 
absurdities,  multiply!  Each  denomination  finds 
itself  distinguished  from  every  other  by  those  things 
which  are  in  each  case  non-essentials.  We  might 
make  a  catalogue  of  each  doctrine,  practice  or 
ecclesiastical    rite    which    is    distinctive    of    each 


60  NEW  CHUECHES  FOR  OLD 

separate  Protestant  body;  then,  having  made  our 
catalogue,  we  might  wipe  out  deliberately  from  the 
whole  field  of  religious  experience,  every  item  listed 
thereon ;  and,  when  the  process  of  annihilation  was 
over,  I  venture  to  say  that  there  would  be  removed 
not  one  smallest  thing  essential  to  the  great  pur- 
pose for  which  Jesus  of  Nazareth  lived  and  died. 
The  magnification  of  non-essentials — this  is  the 
first,  and  by  no  means  the  least  melancholy,  attri- 
bute of  denominationalism. 

As  a  second  and  complementary  fact,  we  find  that 
denominationalism  not  only  emphasizes  the  non- 
essentials, but  also  obscures  and  oftentimes  loses 
altogether  the  essentials.  Not  only  does  the 
denomination  find  itself  bound  to  that  which  is  of 
no  importance,  but  also  cut  off  from  that  which  is 
of  vast  importance.  Suppose  we  should  set  our- 
selves to  the  task  of  working  out  and  listing  the 
basic  principles  of  the  religion  of  Jesus!  Would 
we  not  find  this  an  easy  task,  and  would  we  not  all 
find  it  possible  to  agree  upon  the  answer  to  our 
inquiry?  The  religion  of  Jesus — is  it  not  all 
summed  up  in  the  two  commandments  of  love  to 
God  and  love  to  man?  If  we  would  be  disciples  of 
the  Master,  need  we  go  farther  than  his  own 
reputed  saying,  "Ye  are  my  disciples  if  ye  have  love 
one  for  another"?  Can  there  be  any  dispute  about 
the  Golden  Rule?  Are  we  going  to  quarrel  over 
the  Beatitudes?  These  are  the  essence  of  what  is 
known  as  Christianity,  if  anything  is;  and  they  are 
all  things  so  simple,  so  clear,  so  inclusive,  that  in 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    61 

their  presence  argument  ends,  contention  is  silent, 
and  we  become  as  brothers  together  in  the  common 
reverence  of  the  common  ideal. 

In  our  separate  churches,  however,  what  part  do 
these  ideals  play?  Love,  brotherhood,  forgiveness 
of  sin,  the  Kingdom  of  God — ^these  are  mentioned 
in  every  church ;  but  when  they  are  mentioned  it  is 
Christianity  that  is  being  taught  and  not  Meth- 
odism, or  Episcopalianism,  or  Presbyterianism,  or 
Universalism.  When  the  sectarian  "issue"  ap- 
pears, these  first  and  last  things  depart,  for  they 
are  of  no  interest  or  importance  to  the  "issue''  as 
such.  If  for  one  moment  they  could  be  made  cen- 
tral, our  sectarian  divisions  would  by  that  very  fact 
be  conjured  away.  We  would  have  nothing  to 
quarrel  over,  no  separate  roads  to  travel,  no  alien 
altars  to  flee.  Indeed  it  only  needs  some  over- 
whelming cause  to  grip  our  hearts,  for  us  to  forget 
our  denominational  lines  and  barriers  and  become 
immediately  true  members  of  the  one  body  of  Christ. 
Thus  when  the  Great  War  swept  the  world,  and  the 
soldiers  marched  away  to  the  battlefield,  they  had 
not  come  within  the  sound  of  guns  before  all  the 
things  which  made  them  Jews  and  Gentiles,  Catho- 
lics and  Protestants,  Anglicans  and  nonconform- 
ists, disappeared  in  favor  of  those  essential  things — 
humanity,  freedom,  brotherhood — which  made  them 
one.  And  if  that  passion  of  a  great  cause,  generated 
by  war,  could  have  been  sublimated  and  carried 
over  into  the  days  of  peace,  our  denominations 
would  have  been  consumed  as  in  a  cleansing  flame^ 


62  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

As  it  is,  however,  the  cause,  such  as  it  was,  has 
disappeared,  and  men  in  the  churches  are  again 
concerned  with  interests  far  removed  from  the 
hopes  and  fears  of  humankind.  Were  Jesus  to 
return  to  earth  these  days,  and  knock  at  the  doors 
of  our  denominational  institutions,  w^at  would  he 
find  within?  That  which  he  taught  and  lived,  and 
for  the  sake  of  which  he  died?  Yes — and  yet  more 
truly  No!  These  central  things  would  be  within — 
but  so  hidden,  buried,  lost  beneath  the  accumulation 
of  the  trivialities  and  absurdities  of  sectarian 
division,  that  they  would  quite  escape  his  gaze. 
F.  B.  Carpenter,  in  his  Six  Months  in  the  White 
House,  tells  us  that  when  Abraham  Lincoln  was 
asked  about  his  religious  opinions,  and  more 
especially  about  his  attitude  toward  the  various 
churches  of  Christendom,  he  replied,  "I  have  never 
united  myself  to  any  church,  because  I  have  found 
difficulty  in  giving  my  assent  to  the  long,  compli- 
cated statements  of  Christian  doctrine,  which 
characterize  their  articles  of  belief.  .  .  .  When 
any  church  will  inscribe  over  its  altar,  as  its  sole 
qualification  of  membership,  ^Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  and  with  all  thy 
soul  and  with  all  thy  mind;  and  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself,'  that  church  will  I  join  with  all  my  heart 
and  all  my  soul."  The  great  President  was  looking 
for  a  church  which  dealt  exclusively  with  the 
essentials  of  religion,  and  this  he  could  not  find 
amid  the  welter  of  denominations. 

Lastly,  there  is  a  third  characteristic  of  denomi- 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    63 

nationalism,  which  must  be  emphasized  as  the  most 
important  of  all.  This  is  the  process  by  which  the 
sectarian  church  tends  to  become  an  institution  not 
of  public  service  but  of  private  possession  and 
interest.  The  Presbyterian  or  Baptist  church,  just 
because  it  is  Presbyterian  or  Baptist,  has  some  par- 
ticular, distinctive,  and  therefore  private  end  to 
further.  Its  primary  object  is  not  to  serve  the 
public  interest  in  any  universal  human  sense,  but 
to  take  that  interest  and  transfer  it  to  the  service 
of  that  especial  private  purpose  for  the  sake  of 
which  it  alone  exists.  Inevitably  wherever  denomi- 
nations prevail,  there  is  contrast,  and  often  conflict, 
between  the  social  and  the  sectarian  goal.  What 
society  wants  and  perhaps  must  have  for  the  ful- 
fillment of  its  life,  is  alien  and  sometimes  even 
antagonistic  to  that  purpose  which  is  the  sole  con- 
cern of  the  religious  sect. 

Of  this  there  can  be  no  better  illustration  than  the 
process  which  has  been  followed  in  the  development 
of  education  in  the  middle  western  states  of  this 
republic.  As  these  areas  were  settled  in  the  early 
days  by  the  pioneers  from  the  eastern  seaboard, 
there  were  planted,  in  all  the  towns  and  villages,  the 
various  churches  to  which  the  newcomers  had 
belonged  in  their  former  homes.  To  these  were 
added  some  new  churches,  representative  of  local 
evangelistic  movements.  As  children  came  along 
and  problems  of  education  were  thereby  presented, 
these  churches  organized  their  separate  denomi- 
national schools  and  colleges,  and  thus,  in  addition 


64  NEW  CHURCHES  FOE  OLD 

to  competing  with  the  public  schools,  early  gained 
something  of  a  monopoly  in  the  higher  grades  of 
learning.  The  presence  of  these  institutions,  how- 
ever, did  not  solve  the  problems  of  education  in  a 
democracy.  On  the  contrary,  it  complicated  them ; 
for  it  soon  became  manifest  that  these  denomi- 
national academies  and  colleges  were  essentially 
private  and  not  public  in  their  nature.  They 
existed  to  teach  not  the  truth,  but  a  certain 
special  brand  of  truth.  They  were  interested  in 
meeting  not  the  social  needs  of  democracy,  but  the 
theological  and  ecclesiastical  needs  of  this  or  that 
Protestant  church.  In  other  words,  these  institu- 
tions had  for  their  primary  end  and  aim,  the  busi- 
ness of  "putting  something  over"  on  the  public 
mind.  When,  therefore,  these  commonwealths 
developed  into  the  ways  of  settled  life,  and  the 
hig'her  aspects  of  education  became  matters  of 
genuine  public  concern,  the  people  found  it  neces- 
sary to  ignore  or  challenge  these  denominational 
institutions  of  learning,  and  shut  them  out  alto- 
gether from  the  established  system  of  public  edu- 
cation. In  all  these  states  there  were  founded  the 
famous  "state  universities,"  which  are  now  to  be 
numbered  among  the  educational  wonders  of  the 
world.  And  in  all  these  universities,  it  is  a  cardinal 
principle  of  organization  that  religion,  in  every  one 
of  its  sectarian  forms,  shall  be  absolutely  excluded ! 
Now  what  is  true  of  these  denominational  col- 
leges, is  true  in  an  even  deeper  and  wider  sense 
of  the  denominational  churches.     The  latter,  like 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES     65 

the  colleges  which  they  have  bred  and  reared, 
are  private  institutions,  existing  for  private  pur- 
poses which  are  quite  apart  from  the  public  interest 
of  a  democratic  society.  Note,  for  example,  the 
ring  of  so-called  "college  churches"  which  sur- 
round the  state  universities  of  the  west  like  a 
besieging  army !  Each  denomination  plants  at  the 
gates  of  these  institutions  of  learning,  churches 
representative  of  its  own  particular  theological 
interest.  Here  they  stand,  not  because  the  com- 
munity wants  them  or  needs  them,  but  because  each 
separate  sect  hopes  to  seize  some  stragglers  from 
the  student  body  of  the  college,  as  marauding 
Indians  used  to  seize  straying  children  from  the 
white  settlements  and  bring  them  up  as  members  of 
the  tribe.  Their  purpose  in  such  cases  is  delib- 
erately to  defeat  the  public  purpose  of  preparing 
young  men  and  women  for  life  without  bias  of 
political  or  theological  opinion.  The  success  of  the 
churches,  in  this  case  as  in  all  cases,  is  won  at  the 
expense  of  the  community.  To  the  extent  that  they 
attain  their  end  the  community  is  defeated.  They 
divert  attention  from  the  common  interest,  draw 
ofE  their  respective  groups  from  the  common  life, 
make  division  and  competition,  not  union  and 
cooperation,  the  practice  of  society.  The  denomi- 
nations can  not  flourish  without  making  true  com- 
munity association  impossible.  Which  means,  in 
all  frankness,  that  our  churches,  as  they  exist  today 
for  the  fostering  of  private  particularistic  interests, 
are  anti-social  and  therefore  hostile  to  public  wel- 


66  NEW  CHURCHES  FOE  OLD 

fare.  When  this  fact  is  clearly  seen,  as  it  is  just 
now  beginning  to  be  seen/  there  will  be  raised  the 
interesting  question  as  to  whether  our  American 
democracy  shall  tolerate  the  continuance  of  these 
centers  of  social  discord  and  confusion.  In  more 
than  one  case  which  has  come  to  my  attention,  the 
citizens  of  new  communities,  building  their  homes 
in  restricted  areas,  have  covenanted  that  no  denomi- 
national church  shall  be  allowed  to  acquire  prop- 
erty or  do  work  among  them.  Why  should  not 
this  practice  become  general?  Why  should  hostile 
interests  of  competing  churches  be  allowed  longer 
to  divide  the  common  life  on  non-essential  issues 
alien  to  the  public  welfare?  Why  should  not  our 
civic  communities  provide  their  own  churches — 
organize  out  of  their  own  social  life,  that  is,  public 
institutions  of  religion  which  shall  match  in  the 
ecclesiastical  field  those  colleges  and  universities 
which  they  have  already  created  in  the  educational 
field?  The  denomination  as  a  competitor,  or  even 
open  enemy,  of  the  democratic  society  in  the  midst 
of  which  it  conducts  its  propaganda  and  sustains 
its  life,  is  fast  becoming  one  of  the  pressing  social 
problems  of  the  hour. 

VI 

Denominationalism  may  be  briefly  described  as  a 
division  of  religious  forces  on  trivial  issues  to  the 
service  of  private  ends.     As  thus  understood,  it  is 


*  B^e  Joseph  B.  McAfee's  article  in  The  NeiM  Republic,  March  8,  1919, 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES     6f 

the  antithesis  of  religion,  and  the  fundamental 
cause  of  the  collapse  which  has  now  come  upon  the 
churches.  For  what  other  reason  do  these  churches 
hold  fast  to  the  things  which  are  so  utterly  remote 
from  the  main  concerns  of  life?  For  what  other 
reason  do  they  remain  indifferent  to  the  things 
which  are  central  to  the  thought  and  activity  of 
humankind  today?  And  for  what  other  reason  do 
all  attempts  to  save  the  tragic  situation  in  which 
Christendom  now  finds  itself,  come  sooner  or  later 
to  failure? 

Foremost  among  these  attempts,  spiritually  as 
well  as  chronologically,  have  been  the  experiments 
of  the  so-called  liberals.  The  Unitarians,  for 
example,  of  the  school  of  Channing  in  America  and 
of  Martineau  in  England,  stand  first  among  all 
modern  Christians  in  their  endeavor  to  subordinate 
non-essentials  to  essentials,  and  to  establish  an 
organized  body  of  religion  which  shall  be  truly 
serviceable  of  public  interests.  To  this  end,  they 
have  undertaken  to  build  an  institution  which 
shall  be  undenominational  in  spirit,  and  thus  wide 
enough  to  include  all  men  everywhere.  Not  even 
to  the  limits  of  Christianity  have  the  more  progres- 
sive among  the  Unitarians  confined  themselves,  but 
have  sought  to  extend  the  circle  of  spiritual  friend- 
ship to  horizons  wide  enough  to  embrace  mankind. 
Theirs  has  been  a  noble  endeavor  to  establish 
genuine  religious  unity  on  a  basis  of  reality;  and 
yet  it  stands,  like  those  made  by  other  liberal  move- 
ments of  the  time,  as  an  endeavor  which  has  failed. 


68  NEW  CHUECHES  FOR  OLD 

In  spite  of  the  highest  type  of  leadership,  their 
group  has  taken  its  place  as  a  separate  denomina- 
tion, distinguished  from  other  denominations  by 
certain  peculiar  theological  tenets;  and  thus  has 
resulted  only  in  the  addition  of  one  more  division 
to  the  already  extravagant  number  of  divisions  in 
the  Protestant  world. 

A  second  and  more  direct  endeavor  to  strike  at 
the  root  of  denominationalism,  is  represented  in 
the  movements  for  church  amalgamation  which 
have  been  attracting  so  much  attention  in  recent 
years.  These  movements  are  substantially  of  two 
kinds. 

The  church  unity  movement  is  an  endeavor  to 
unite  in  a  single  body  several  denominational 
groups  which  are  more  or  less  similar  in  thought 
and  organization.  An  illustration  is  the  attempt 
which  was  made  in  Ohio  before  the  war  to  combine 
the  Congregationalists,  the  Methodists  and  the 
United  Brethren  into  one  denomination.  Another 
illustration  is  the  attempt  now  successfully  under 
way  in  Canada  to  unite  the  Congregationalists, 
Presbyterians  and  Methodists.  In  the  local  field, 
the  movement  manifests  itself  in  the  organization 
of  the  so-called  "union  church,"  which  represents 
the  combination,  in  a  single  town  or  village,  of 
several  different  denominational  churches.  All 
such  undertakings,  of  course,  are  to  be  welcomed 
and  their  success  desired.  Yet  it  should  be  evident 
enough  that  such  process  of  amalgamation  can  take 
us  only  a  few  steps  toward  the  great  end  of  abolish- 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES     69 

ing  denominationalism  and  all  it  implies.  For 
central  to  the  whole  scheme  is  the  old  theological 
idea  of  a  creed  or  statement  of  faith,  as  the  basis  of 
religious  organization.  The  creed  adopted  by  these 
union  churches  is  always  simpler  and  broader  than 
that  which  characterizes  the  unadulterated  sec- 
tarian institution.  It  therefore  offers  a  wider  basis 
of  fellowship,  and  reaches  a  larger  group  of  persons 
in  the  community,  than  any  church  affiliated  with 
a  single  denomination.  But  in  essence  the  union 
church  represents  the  same  type  of  institution  as 
the  churches  which  it  has  superseded.  Its  new 
basis  of  union  represents  only  a  new  and  more 
firmly  integrated  center  of  division  from  the  rest  of 
Christendom.  Amalgamation  along  these  lines  will 
reduce  the  scandalous  number  of  Protestant  sects; 
it  will  wipe  out  the  ridiculous  multiplicity  of  com- 
peting churches.  But  denominationalism  as  a 
problem  will  still  remain. 

A  more  hopeful  variety  of  amalgamation  is  that 
embodied  in  the  movement  of  federation,  so  notably 
successful  in  recent  years  in  the  case  of  the  Federal 
Council  of  the  Churches  of  Christ  in  America. 
This  undertakes  not  to  unite  denominations  into  a 
single  body,  but  to  recognize  them  just  as  they  are, 
and  lift  them,  by  federation  on  the  basis  of  a  com- 
mon program  of  action,  from  the  plane  of  doctrine 
to  the  plane  of  life.  The  creation  of  the  Federal 
Council  represents  an  epoch  in  the  history  of 
religion  in  this  country.  It  has  added  to  society  a 
new  center  of  power,  and  thus  done  something  to 


TO  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

pull  the  churches  out  of  the  mire  of  inconsequen- 
tiality  into  which  they  had  fallen.  But  such  system 
of  federation,  based  as  it  is  upon  the  initial  recog- 
nition of  the  principle  of  theological  separatism, 
touches  only  incidentally  upon  the  basic  problem 
involved.  The  fact  that  the  Council,  in  spite  of  all 
its  excellent  work  under  what  has  been  on  the  whole 
brave  and  far-sighted  leadership,  has  done  so  little 
to  stay  the  progressive  disintegration  of  the  organ- 
ized religious  forces  of  America,  is  proof  of  its 
ineffectiveness. 

A  third  endeavor  to  save  the  situation  is  found 
In  the  "institutional  church.''  This  transformation 
of  the  old  theological  institution  into  an  active 
agent  of  organized  social  service,  represents  one 
of  the  great  religious  achievements  of  modern 
times.  It  is  a  monument  to  the  awakening  of 
Christianity  to  the  essential  aspects  of  human 
life  upon  this  planet,  which  it  has  so  long  and 
scandalously  neglected.  It  is  the  one  successful 
attempt  in  our  time  to  socialize  religion  by  harness- 
ing the  church  directly  to  the  service  of  the  com- 
munity. But  when  we  go  behind  the  practical 
activities  of  the  institutional  church,  and  come  to 
the  church  itself,  we  find  at  once  that  there  is  little 
here  to  give  us  hope.  For  the  institutional  church 
is  at  bottom  the  same  old  church  we  have  always 
known,  with  its  denominational  prejudices,  its 
theological  barriers,  its  frequently  undemocratic 
organization,  and  its  always  timid  acceptance  of 
charity  as  a  fit  substitute  for  justice.     The  startling 


RELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    71 

spectacle  some  years  ago  of  a  world-famous  institu- 
tional church  participating  in  a  Billy  Sunday 
campaign,  presents  convincing  demonstration  that 
the  institutional  church  is  simply  the  old  church 
clothed  in  fashionable  garments. 


VII 

The  trouble  with  all  these  endeavors  is  the  same. 
They  are  vitiated  by  the  fact  that  they  begin  with 
the  churches  as  they  exist  today,  and  work  inside 
the  limitations  imposed  by  the  organization  of  these 
churches.  What  is  being  sought  is  a  revival  of  the 
classic  church-idea,  which  represents  the  church  as 
a  sacred  institution,  embodying  certain  immutable 
forces  and  ideas  to  which  society  must  somehow  or 
other  adapt  itself.  Implicit  in  every  one  of  these 
movements  of  ecclesiastical  reform  is  the  conviction 
that  life  cannot  go  on  without  the  churches.  But 
life  is  going  on  without  the  churches !  This  is  the 
central  social  phenomenon  of  our  time.  Only  the 
churches  do  not  know  it,  or  will  not  recognize  it,  so 
great  is  their  obsession  with  tradition. 

In  all  these  endeavors,  therefore,  we  see  the  last 
stage  in  the  dissolution,  rather  than  the  first  stage 
in  the  restoration,  of  Protestantism.  Like  a  frantic 
mother's  struggle  to  nurse  a  dead  baby  back  to  life, 
are  all  these  attempts  to  save  religion  in  a  place 
from  which  it  long  since  disappeared.  What  must 
be  had,  if  religion  is  to  survive  and  function,  is  a 
return   not  to  the   churches   but   to   society,   an 


72  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

endeavor  to  restore  not  the  vitality  of  institutions 
but  the  social  consciousness  of  men.  Our  work 
must  be  founded  not  on  the  theological  but  on  the 
social  concept  of  spiritual  experience  and  idea. 
For  it  is  never  the  institution  which  is  central  in 
life,  but  the  people  out  of  which  the  institution 
is  made.  Not  the  church  is  holy,  but  humanity! 
If  we  want  to  revitalize  and  reorganize  religion, 
therefore,  we  must  begin  at  the  bottom,  with  the  raw 
material  of  human  nature,  and  not  at  the  top  with 
the  finished  and  therefore  already  dead  product  into 
which  this  material  has  at  some  past  time  been 
fashioned.  Men  and  women,  the  people,  the  masses, 
the  multitudes,  the  proletariat,  the  great  com- 
munion of  the  common  life!  This  is  our  field  of 
action — ^here  the  center  of  our  problem !  If  we  are 
to  do  anything  for  religion,  we  must  plunge  into  the 
stream  of  life,  not  play  upon  the  banks  and  eddies. 
We  want  religion !  We  want  it  not  for  itself,  but 
that  we  may  harness  it  to  the  service  of  men's 
needs !  Then  must  we  search  men's  hearts,  as  they 
sweat  and  weep  in  the  ruck  of  labor,  as  they  join 
the  struggles  and  share  the  sorrows  of  the  working 
world.  Unite  these  hearts  in  one  vast  accord  of 
sympathy  and  action,  and  there  will  be  no  question 
of  uniting  churches.  For  there  will  be  no  churches 
in  the  accepted  sense  of  the  word,  but  only  men 
living  in  one  life,  and  working  to  one  end  of  re- 
demption here  and  now. 

Our  task,  therefore,  is  to  return  to  society,  not  to 
hold  apart  from  society;  to  build  out  of  it,  and  not 


EELIGION  INSIDE  THE  CHURCHES    73 

impose  upon  it,  the  institutions  of  its  life.  This 
means  the  great  experience  of  democracy,  which 
means  in  turn  the  free  functioning  of  society  in  the 
creation  of  the  agencies  of  its  own  redemption !  In 
our  modern  political  democracy,  some  of  these  insti- 
tutions have  already  begun  to  appear,  as  witness  the 
school  and  the  state.  These  institutions  have 
grown  as  native  products  of  the  soil.  But  the 
churches,  as  they  exist  today,  are  aliens.  They 
stand  not  as  the  quick  grass  springing  fresh  from 
out  the  earth,  but  as  dead  rocks  molten  in  the  heat 
of  other  days.  They  have  no  place,  save  as  relics 
of  earlier  processes  of  life.  The  churches  which 
shall  serve  us  in  the  future  must  be  new  churches, 
born  of  our  common  life,  and  instinct  with  its  pas- 
sions. Therefore  to  understand  democracy,  as  it 
developed  from  out  the  past,  and  works  among  us 
in  this  present,  is  the  next  task  that  lies  before  us. 
In  it  is  the  secret  of  the  religion  of  our  place  and 
time;  and  out  of  it  shall  proceed  the  church  for 
which  men  wait. 


CHAPTER   III 

DEMOCRACY:   RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE 
CHURCHES 


"Without  Liberty  no  true  society  exists.  .  .  .  Lib- 
erty is  sacred  as  the  individual  whose  life  it  represents 
is  sacred,  .  .  .  Personal  liberty,  liberty  of  locomotion, 
liberty  of  religious  belief,  liberty  of  opinion,  .  .  .  lib- 
erty of  trade  in  all  the  productions  of  your  brains  and 
hands :  these  are  all  things  which  no  one  may  take  from 
you.    .    .    . 

"But  when  you  have  obtained  the  recognition  of  these 
liberties  as  sacred  .  .  .  then  remember  that  still  above 
each  of  you  stands  the  great  aim  which  it  is  your  duty 
to  attain :  ...  an  ever  more  intimate  and  wider  com- 
munion between  all  the  members  of  the  human  family. 
.  .  .  That  your  individual  life  should  be  linked  more 
surely  and  intimately  with  the  collective  life  of  all,  with 
the  life  of  humanity,  God  has  made  you  essentially  social 
beings.  Every  kind  of  lower  being  can  live  by  itself, 
without  other  communion  than  with  nature ;  you  can  not. 
At  every  step  you  have  need  of  your  brothers.  .  .  . 
All  the  noblest  aspirations  of  your  heart  .  .  .  indicate 
your  inborn  tendency  to  unite  your  life  with  the  life  of 
the  millions  who  surround  you.  You  are,  then,  created 
for  association, 

"Association  is  the  sole  means  which  we  possess  of 
accomplishing  progress  .  .  .  because  it  brings  into 
closer  relations  all  the  various  manifestations  of  the 
human  soul,  and  puts  that  life  of  the  individual  into 
communion  with  the  collective  life.  Liberty  gives  you 
the  power  of  choosing  between  good  and  evil.  .  .  . 
Association  must  give  you  the  means  with  which  to  put 
your  choice  into  practise.  Association,  without  which 
liberty  is  useless,  is  as  sacred  as  religion.  .  .  .  Con- 
sider association,  then,  as  your  duty  and  your  right. 
(For)  we  are  here  below  to  labor  fraternally  to  build 
up  the  unity  of  the  human  family." 
Joseph  Mazzini,  in 

The  Duties  of  Man 


CHAPTER  III 

DEMOCKACY:    RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE 
CHURCHES 


In  seeking  to  understand  the  meaning  of  democ- 
racy, as  a  religion,  we  need  to  go  back  into  the 
past  only  a  distance  of  some  four  hundred  years, 
for  this  tremendous  movement,  as  we  know  it  in 
our  time,  finds  its  most  authentic  credentials  in  the 
significant  fact  that  it  had  its  first  appearance  in 
the  spiritual  upheaval  of  the  Reformation.  It 
was  from  the  Protestantism  of  the  early  sixteenth 
century,  so  soon  to  betray  its  offspring,  that  it 
took  its  birth.  Its  progress  from  that  time  has 
been  through  many  lands  and  peoples.  Its  story 
divides  itself  into  not  less  than  three  distinct  and 
separate  chapters ;  but  its  note  is  always  the  same, 
and  its  fundamental  religious  character  always 
unmistakable. 

In  its  initial  appearance,  democracy  is  a  revolt 
against  the  idea  of  institutional  authority.  Martin 
Luther  struck  this  note  in  the  beginning,  in  his 
assault  upon  "the  divine  right''  of  the  Roman 
Papacy.  Here  was  the  church  claiming  to  be  the 
sole  repository  of  truth,  and  the  sole  custodian  of 

77 


78  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

spiritual  life.  Jesus  had  founded  this  church  on 
Peter;  and  Peter  in  turn  had  transmitted  his  pre- 
rogatives to  his  successors;  and  these,  by  the 
miraculous  process  of  "the  apostolic  succession," 
had  transmitted  the  exclusive  sanction  of  the  divine 
Christ  to  the  existing  hierarchy  in  Rome.  No  man 
could  come  to  God,  save  through  the  church;  no 
man  could  find  the  way  of  life,  save  under  direction 
of  the  church ;  no  man  could  attain  salvation,  except 
by  the  mercy  of  the  church.  In  life  and  death 
alike,  in  other  words,  the  church  enjoyed  and  exer- 
cised a  monopoly  of  grace.  By  virtue  of  "the 
divine  right"  conferred  upon  it  by  the  Saviour,  it 
held  exclusive  control  over  the  destinies  of  men. 
It  was  this  claim  which  aroused  the  wrath  and 
fetirred  the  revolt  of  Luther.  He  rebelled  against 
the  church — flouted  its  authority,  denied  its 
"rights,"  shattered  the  whole  idea  of  its  spiritual 
autonomy.  Democracy  was  launched  at  the  mo- 
ment when  this  great  reformer  dethroned  the 
church  by  proclaiming  that  there  was  salvation 
outside  the  shadow  of  its  altars. 

A  second  chapter  in  the  story  of  democracy  was 
opened  some  two  centuries  later,  when  the  move- 
ment of  revolt  spread  from  the  ecclesiastical  to  the 
political  field.  The  institution  now  in  question 
was  not  the  church  but  the  state — the  ruler  to  be 
overthrown  not  the  priest  but  the  prince.  This 
revolution,  long  maturing  as  the  fruitage  of  the 
Reformation,  came  to  its  climax,  of  course,  in  the 
French  Revolution,  when  the  feudal  doctrine  of 


EELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   79 

^^the  divine  right''  of  kings  came  tumbling  to  the 
dust.  Since  that  momentous  day  the  movement 
has  spread  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  world,  both  civilized  and  barbarian,  until  it  is 
now  only  in  the  remote  places  of  the  earth  that 
there  are  left  any  kings  who  rule  as  monarchs  used 
to  rule.  A  few  more  sovereigns  overthrown,  a  few 
more  constitutions  written,  and  the  work  of  politi- 
cal democracy  will  be  accomplished ! 

For  a  good  many  years  it  was  believed  that  these 
two  chapters  comprised  the  whole  of  the  story  of 
this  remarkable  movement  of  revolt.  In  our  time, 
however,  with  a  suddennesis  which  is  simply  terrific, 
we  have  been  taught  that  there  is  another  chapter 
still  to  come,  and  this  the  greatest  and  most 
momentous  of  them  all.  For  who  is  so  blind  as  not 
to  see  that  in  the  modern  labor  movement  we  have 
exactly  the  same  phenomenon  in  the  field  of  eco- 
nomics and  industry,  as  appeared  in  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal field  with  the  Protestant  Reformation,  and  in 
the  political  field  with  the  French  Revolution? 
The  spirit  of  revolt  against  institutional  authority 
is  moving  on;  and  having  disposed  of  the  divine 
right  of  the  church  as  embodied  in  a  pope,  and  the 
divine  right  of  the  state  as  embodied  in  a  king,  it 
now  proposes  to  dispose  of  the  divine  right  of  prop- 
erty as  embodied  in  a  capitalist!  For  the  indus- 
trial developments  of  the  last  one  hundred  years 
have  raised  up  a  new  institution  of  privilege  and 
power,  this  time  economic  instead  of  ecclesiastical 
or  political  in  character;  and  the  spirit  of  democ- 


80  NEW  CHUECHES  FOR  OLD 

racy,  now  thoroughly  aroused,  goes  forth  to  war 
against  this  as  against  the  others.  And  strange  is 
it  to  note  that  many  of  those  who  are  most  familiar 
with  democracy  in  its  workings  in  church  and 
state,  and  who  have  entered  most  fully  into  the 
inheritance  of  democracy  as  transmitted  to  them  by 
their  revolutionary  forefathers  of  the  centuries 
gone  by,  are  just  the  ones  who  are  most  terrified  at 
what  is  now  going  on  everywhere  in  the  economic 
world,  and  most  eager  to  stop  it !  One  would  never 
imagine  that  these  persons,  bitter  opponents  not 
merely  of  Bolshevism  but  of  the  mildest  forms  of 
social  change,  are  members  of  a  church  and  citizens 
of  a  nation,  which  were  alike  conceived  in  rebellion 
and  born  of  revolution!  I  know  nothing  in  all 
history  which  is  more  ironical  than  the  hostility  of 
the  so-called  democracies  of  the  world  to  the  present 
day  manifestations  of  the  democratic  spirit  in 
economic  life.  And  by  the  same  token  do  I  know 
of  nothing  more  pitiful  than  the  frantic  and  of 
course  futile  endeavors  of  this  hostility  to  stay  the 
flood  of  social  change!  Democracy  is  the  most 
triumphant  thing  in  all  the  world ;  and  what  it  has 
already  wrought  in  church  and  state,  it  is  certain 
also  now  to  achieve  in  the  economic  field.  Legis- 
lative investigations,  espionage  and  censorship 
laws,  leagues  of  nations,  treaties  of  peace,  armies 
of  intervention  and  occupation — what  are  they  all 
before  the  advance  of  resistless  cosmic  forces?  Have 
you  ever  seen  a  little  boy  building  his  houses  and 
castles  in  the  sand,  as  the  tide  of  the  ocean  mounts 


RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   81 

along  the  beach?  How  outraged,  and  then  alarmed, 
is  the  youngster,  when  he  discovers  the  waters 
threatening  the  structures  which  he  has  reared! 
How  vigorously  he  goes  to  work  to  stop  the  advanc- 
ing waves !  As  they  sweep  around  his  feet,  he  takes 
his  shovel  and  pushes  them  away.  As  they  wash  the 
walls  of  his  castle,  he  piles  on  the  sand,  to  make 
these  walls  higher  and  stronger.  As  the  waves 
break  through  and  flood  the  house,  he  seizes  his  pail, 
and  throws  the  water  back  into  the  sea.  But  all  in 
vain — the  waves  will  have  their  way !  And  so  with 
the  industrial  changes  which  are  everywhere  threat- 
ening this  day  to  engulf  the  mighty  structures  of 
industrial  autocracy.  The  uprising  against  this 
latest  form  of  institutional  tyranny  has  begun. 
Democracy  has  precipitated  a  new  battle,  and  is 
moving  to  a  new  triumph.  The  choice  before  us  to- 
day is  no  longer  to  be  found  in  the  question  as  to 
whether  the  economic  revolution  shall  come  or  not. 
It  is  to  be  found  rather  in  the  simple  question  as  to 
whether  it  shall  come  by  mutual  agreement,  coop- 
eration, constructive  and  peaceful  change,  or  by  the 
fire  and  sword  of  violence ! 

II 

Democracy,  therefore,  in  its  beginnings,  is  always 
the  same.  It  is  a  revolt  of  men  against  oppressive 
institutional  authority.  But  what  is  behind  this 
revolt?  What  is  the  spiritual  affirmation,  of  which 
such  social  upheaval  is  the  practical  expression? 

The  answer  to  this  question  is  to  be  found  in  the 


82  NEW  CHUKCHES  FOR  OLD 

great  movement  of  the  Renaissance.  This,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  marked  the  rediscovery  and 
declaration  on  a  gigantic  scale  of  the  truth,  so  often 
found  and  again  so  often  lost,  that  there  is  nothing 
sacred  in  all  the  world  but  the  human  soul.  The 
Renaissance  presented  to  mankind  the  individual. 
Its  supreme  achievement  was  the  elevation  of  the 
single  human  being  to  a  position  of  supreme  author- 
ity. Democracy  is  the  working  out  of  this  achieve- 
ment. When  Martin  Luther  started  his  crusade 
against  medieval  Catholicism,  he  founded  his  faith 
on  what  he  called  ^^the  priesthood  of  the  common 
man.''  It  is  not  these  bishops  and  priests  of  the 
church,  he  said,  who  possess  the  sanctity  of  God's 
grace.  This  grace  is  granted  to  every  individual 
and  makes  of  that  individual  a  priest  ordained  not 
of  the  Papacy  but  of  the  Most  High  himself. 

Similar  was  the  idea  that  controlled  the  great 
revolutions  for  political  democracy  at  the  close  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  Not  the  priesthood,  but 
the  kingship  of  the  common  man  was  now  the 
slogan  of  the  hour.  Not  any  sovereign  of  any  royal 
house,  but  the  humblest  citizen  of  the  realm,  was  he 
who  was  crowned  with  divine  favor,  and  who  exer- 
cised the  divine  right  of  authority.  It  was  this 
belief  in  the  individual  which  was  the  inspiration 
behind  our  Declaration  of  Independence,  with  its 
sublime  affirmation  that  "all  men  are  created 
equal  .  .  .  and  are  endowed  by  their  creator 
with  certain  inalienable  rights;  that  among  these 
are  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness." 


EELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   83 

Now  in  the  industrial  field  comes  the  same  dis- 
covery, and  with  it  the  same  movement  of  revolu- 
tion. We  feel  today  that  the  commonest  worker  in 
field  or  factory  is  a  divine  being  upon  whom  has 
been  conferred,  equally  with  every  other  man,  the 
heritage  of  earth.  This  worker,  just  because  of 
his  divine  manhood,  is  entitled  to  access  to  the 
earth.  He  is  entitled  to  enjoyment  of  those  natural 
resources  from  which  flow  the  tides  of  wealth  which 
now  bless  only  the  few  and  privileged.  He  is 
entitled  to  adequate  food  and  housing,  to  free  oppor- 
tunity for  his  children,  to  leisure  and  comfort,  to 
all  the  basic  blessings  of  associated  life.  These  are 
the  rights  which  the  humblest  workers  of  the  world 
are  now  claiming  for  themselves.  They  assert  that 
there  is  nothing  which  should  be  denied  them, 
nothing  to  which  they  are  not  entitled,  nothing 
which  is  not  properly  theirs.  These  workers,  in 
other  words,  have  discovered  themselves ;  they  know 
themselves  to  be  men;  they  have  laid  hold  on  the 
sanctity  of  their  own  souls,  and  the  privileges  of 
life  and  love  which  are  their  rightful  possession  as 
sons  of  the  everliving  God.  And  they  move  on  to 
that  triumphant  assertion  of  their  individual  sove- 
reignty in  the  industrial  realm,  which  has  long 
since  been  claimed  and  seized  in  other  fields  of 
social  relationship ! 

These  are  the  two  sides  of  democracy — the  nega- 
tive, which  is  the  revolt  against  authority;  the 
positive,  which  is  the  affirmation  of  the  sanctity  of 
life,  the  rights  of  men,  the  worth  of  the  individual. 


84  NEW  CHURCHES  FOE  OLD 

These  together  may  be  described  as  the  old  and 
new  testament  of  the  people's  Bible.  The  two 
can  perhaps  be  combined,  and  thus  summarized,  in 
the  one  great  ideal  of  liberty,  as  witness  the  early 
and  unspoiled  achievements  of  the  Reformation! 
Democracy,  in  the  last  analysis,  means  simply 
freedom — freedom  for  every  humblest  individual,  in 
every  walk  of  life,  apart  from  all  institutional 
authority,  to  live  out  the  destiny  of  his  own  being ! 
The  Pilgrims  and  Puritans  crossed  the  wintry 
waste  of  the  Atlantic  to  come  to  the  unknown 
shores  of  this  country,  in  order  that  they  might  be 
free — free  to  worship  their  own  God  in  their  own 
way.  It  was  freedom  in  political  relations  which 
was  in  our  fathers'  hearts  when  they  declared  war 
upon  the  government  of  George  the  Third,  and 
wrote  the  immortal  words  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  And  now  it  is  this  same  ideal  of 
freedom  which  flies  on  every  banner  that  is  lifted 
by  the  laboring  millions  of  Europe  and  America. 
It  is  no  accident  that  at  the  entrance  portal  of  this 
great  republic,  which  has  stood  for  generations  to 
all  men  everywhere  as  the  social  symbol  of  democ- 
racy, there  stands  the  gigantic  figure  of  the  Goddess 
of  Liberty.  Her  torch  of  freedom  has  flung  wide 
its  beams  into  the  dark  corners  of  religious  bigotry 
and  political  oppression.  Brighter  now  today  than 
ever  flames  the  beacon;  and  when  at  last  its  light 
has  driven  darkness  out  of  the  farthest  and  deepest 
corners  of  the  world,  the  worker  as  well  as  the 
citizen  and  the  communicant  will  be  free  of  the 


RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   85 

shackles  which  long  have  bound  him.     Democracy 
means  free  men  in  a  free  world ! 


Ill 

It  was  the  faith  of  men  until  well  into  the  nine- 
teenth century,  that  freedom  comprises  the  whole 
gospel  of  democracy.  Nothing  was  ever  more 
beautiful,  even  though  naive,  than  the  confidence  of 
liberal  thinkers  in  the  seventeenth,  eighteenth  and 
nineteenth  centuries,  that  all  that  was  needed  to 
establish  social  order  and  to  realize  the  fairest 
dreams  of  human  life,  was  to  set  men  free  of  every 
external  limitation  or  constraint.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  his  movement,  Martin  Luther  believed  that 
the  task  of  spiritual  regeneration  involved  no  other 
problem  than  that  of  liberating  the  individual  soul 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  Catholic  hierarchy.  The 
statesmen  of  France  and  America  saw  no  other 
problem  in  political  democracy  than  that  of  emanci- 
pating men  from  the  authority  of  kings,  and 
restoring  them  to  the  primeval  autonomy  of  "the 
social  contract" ;  Thomas  Jefferson  summed  up  the 
whole  political  doctrine  of  the  time  in  his  famous 
dictum,  "the  less  government  the  better."  So  also, 
in  industry,  there  appeared  a  group  of  men,  of  the 
famous  Manchester  school  in  England,  who  believed 
they  had  found  the  solution  of  every  economic  dis- 
order in  the  doctrine  of  laissez  faire^  by  which  they 
meant  the  principle  that  every  man  should  be  left 
free  in  the  industrial  realm  to  work  out  his  own 


86  NEW  CHUECHES  FOE  OLD 

salvation.  The  same  idea  was  carried  over  by 
Herbert  Spencer  into  the  field  of  morals,  and  free- 
dom set  forth  in  his  Data  of  Ethics  as  the  all-suf- 
ficient rule  of  personal  conduct.  The  ills  of  life, 
it  was  believed  in  those  days,  all  had  their  origin 
in  the  tyranny  of  autocratic  men  and  institutions. 
All  that  was  needed  to  solve  every  problem,  both  of 
individual  and  social  life,  was  to  free  the  individual, 
and  thus  enable  him  without  interference  to  follow 
his  native  impulses  and  work  out  his  instinctive 
desires. 

This  implicit  reliance  upon  the  idea  of  abstract 
freedom  was  rooted  in  a  definite  reading  of  the  facts 
of  human  nature.  At  bottom,  it  was  said,  all  men 
are  dominated  by  the  motive  of  self-interest.  To 
the  human  being,  as  to  the  animal,  nothing  is  im- 
portant except  the  desire  for  self-preservation,  sur- 
vival, individual  prosperity  and  happiness.  These 
are  things  which  all  men  want,  and  which  they 
insist  upon  having  at  any  cost.  Now  if  men  can  be 
only  freed  to  act  upon  this  passion  of  self-interest, 
there  will  result  a  certain  automatic  adjustment  of 
relations  which  will  guarantee  to  all  persons  the 
peace  and  happiness  which  they  seek.  Each  indi- 
vidual, in  other  words,  will  be  limited  in  his  quest 
of  personal  satisfactions  by  the  similar  quest  of  all 
other  men  with  whom  he  is  associated;  and  this 
limitation  of  one  individual  upon  another,  will  be 
certain  to  act,  in  the  long  run,  as  a  kind  of  balance 
in  the  social  process.  It  is  sure  to  bring  order 
automatically  out  of  what  would  seem  to  be  the 


RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   87 

hopeless  disorder  of  conflicting  desires  and  ideas. 
It  was  this  faith  in  an  automatic  regulation  of 
men's  lives  by  the  unescapable  modification  of  one 
man's  actions  by  another,  that  induced  the  leaders 
of  the  early  nineteenth  century  to  believe  that  no 
other  regulation  was  necessary,  in  order  to  secure 
the  ends  of  life.  Hence  their  destruction  of 
spiritual  hierarchies,  political  sovereignties,  and 
economical  monopolies!  Hence  their  reading  of 
democracy  exclusively  in  terms  of  individual 
liberty ! 

IV 

It  is  the  discovery  that  this  sole  reliance  upon 
freedom  is  illusory,  which  is  the  dominant  fact  in 
the  democratic  experience  of  our  day.  The  indi- 
vidual has  been  liberated  in  one  field  of  social  life 
after  another,  only  to  discover  that  he  is  not  really 
free.  It  has  been  one  of  the  supreme  tragedies  of 
modern  times  to  find  that  democracy,  for  all  its 
triumphs,  is  as  far  away  as  ever.  We  are  begin- 
ning to  feel,  if  not  to  know,  that  while  freedom  is  an 
excellent  thing,  it  is  not  in  itself  enough.  As 
Dr.  Richard  Roberts  expresses  it,  in  his  little  book, 
The  Red  Gap  on  the  Gross,  ^^freedom  must  have  a 
coefficient,  if  it  is  to  do  its  work  in  establishing  a 
true  and  permanent  democratic  order!''  Left 
alone  by  itself,  to  work  ^^on  its  own  hook,"  so  to 
speak,  freedom  is  almost  certain  to  fall  into  one  or 
the  other  of  two  supreme  disasters. 

In  the   first   place,   it  is   likely   to   be  abused. 


88  NEW  CHUECHES  FOR  OLD 

Liberty  easily  becomes  lawlessness,  and  the  demo- 
cratic order  a  degeneration  into  anarchy.  Martin 
Luther  held  up  his  hands  in  horror  at  the  things 
which  were  done  by  the  Christian  men  and  women 
whom  he  had  emancipated  from  the  yoke  of  Rome. 
The  excesses  of  the  French  Revolution  filled  Europe 
with  terror,  and  turned  against  the  revolutionists 
the  staunchest  friends  of  liberty  in  England  and 
America.  Now  from  Russia  there  comes  the  tragic 
tale  of  the  abuse  of  the  freedom  wrested  from  the 
Czar.  Liberty  of  itself  cannot  control  the  social 
order;  it  simply  cannot  be  trusted  alone  to  work 
out  the  great  ideals  of  democracy.  By  the  best  of 
men  as  well  as  by  the  worst,  by  the  educated  as  well 
as  by  the  ignorant,  it  is  always  subject  to  abuse, 
and  therefore  becomes  the  means  of  destroying  the 
very  thing  for  the  sake  of  which  it  was  inaugurated ! 
But  the  abuse  of  liberty  is  not  the  only  danger 
which  is  involved.  Less  terrible,  but  more  fre- 
quent, is  the  neglect  of  liberty.  Freedom  once 
purchased  at  a  great  price,  and  enjoyed  for  a  time 
as  the  most  precious  of  possessions,  becomes  in  due 
course  of  time  a  thing  of  commonplace,  and  is  then 
neglected.  This  neglect  it  is  which  gives  an  open- 
ing to  what  is  known  in  history  as  "the  strong 
man,"  and  enables  such  a  man  to  seize  upon  the 
8eat  of  power,  and  thus  to  restore  in  his  own  person 
the  autocracy  of  an  older  day.  Freedom  when 
relied  upon  as  the  sole  principle  of  social  organiza- 
tion and  the  single  foundation  of  democracy,  again 
and  again  does  nothing  but  "clear  the  ground"  for 


RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   89 

conflict  between  competing  powers  and  the  dom- 
inance of  selfishness  and  strength.  Thus  in  govern- 
ment there  appears  ^^the  man  on  horseback" — ^that 
sinister  figure  who  has  so  often  ridden  rough-shod 
over  the  neglected  liberty  of  free  peoples.  In  the 
industrial  field  appears  the  monopolist — the  master 
of  privilege — who  utilizes  the  open  opportunity  of 
economic  life  for  the  accumulation  in  his  own  hands 
of  such  social  power  as  would  have  turned  a  Caesar 
to  envy  and  despair.  Eternal  vigilance,  we  have 
been  told,  is  the  price  of  liberty;  but  eternal 
vigilance  is  seldom  practiced,  and  liberty,  thus 
neglected,  becomes  the  opportunity  for  the  Napo- 
leons of  state  and  market-place.  Thus  is  freedom 
lost  as  soon  as  won,  and  democracy  destroyed  as 
soon  as  established.  By  abuse,  or  by  neglect,  the 
fairest  promises  of  free  men,  in  nearly  every  case, 
have  turned  sooner  or  later,  like  the  apples  of 
Sodom,  to  dust  and  ashes. 

This  fact  of  the  inadequacy  of  freedom  as  the 
guarantee  of  democracy,  has  become  manifest  at 
intervals  in  the  past,  and  is  supremely  manifest  to 
the  men  and  women  of  our  time.  Freedom,  we  now 
know,  is  not  enough.  Democracy,  if  it  is  to  stand, 
must  have  another  and  second  foundation  upon 
which  to  build.  It  must  have  a  ^^coeflScient".^  And 
it  is  the  tragedy  of  every  era  of  abused  or  neglected 
liberty  that  this  "coefficient''  of  freedom  has  been 
sought  not  in  new  or  prophetic  principles  of  life, 
but  in  a  return  to  that  old,  discredited  principle 

^  See  Bichard  Roberts,  The  Red  Cap  on  the  CrosSj  page  51, 


90  NEW  CHUECHES  FOR  OLD 

of  authority,  which  men  had  thought  to  leave  behind 
forever.  Where  does  history  present  to  us  an 
instance  of  more  terrific  irony  than  the  resort 
of  men  who  have  won  liberty  for  their  fellows,  or 
inherited  it  from  their  predecessors,  to  the  practice 
of  shameless  tyrannies,  when  they  have  seen  liberty 
turned  to  license  or  captured  by  power?  This  was 
the  tragedy  of  the  Reformation,  as  we  have  seen. 
Immediately  that  Luther  saw  what  freedom  was 
doing  to  the  people  of  his  time,  he  gave  himself  to 
the  work  of  organizing  a  church  as  closely  after 
the  pattern  of  the  Roman  Papacy  as  it  was  possible 
to  build  outside  the  borders  of  Catholicism;  and 
resorted  to  the  swords  of  princes  to  sustain  his 
authority.  Instinctively,  that  is,  in  defence  of  the 
very  liberty  which  he  had  brought  into  the  world, 
he  returned  to  the  uses  of  that  tyranny  to  the  over- 
throw of  which  he  had  given  his  life. 

The  same  thing  has  been  true  again  and  again 
in  the  political  realm.  The  liberals  of  France  knew 
no  way  of  saving  themselves  from  the  confusion  and 
horror  of  the  Reign  of  Terror,  except  by  giving  their 
destinies  into  the  hands  of  an  autocratic  ruler  like 
the  first  Napoleon.  Here  in  our  country  we  have 
had  a  contemporary  instance,  in  the  speedy  resort 
of  the  American  government  in  1917-1919  to  Prus- 
sian methods  of  social  control  during  a  war  defi- 
nitely fought  "to  make  the  world  safe  for  democ- 
racy." During  these  two  years,  we  were  wantonly 
deprived  of  liberty  of  speech,  of  press,  of  assembly ; 
and  all  on  the  plea  that,  in  such  a  crisis  of  the 


RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   91 

national  life,  liberty  could  not  be  trusted!  Of 
course,  it  could  not  be  trusted !  Experience,  as  we 
have  said,  has  demonstrated  beyond  question  that 
liberty  is  a  reed  upon  which  alone  it  is  impossible 
to  lean.  But  alas  for  the  wisdom  and  imagination 
of  men,  that  they  know  no  way  of  saving  the  situ- 
ation except  by  abandoning  this  very  liberty  to 
which  their  society  is  dedicated! 

The  same  thing  will  be  true,  we  may  be  sure, 
when,  through  the  establishment  of  economic  free- 
dom, democracy  has  made  its  way  into  the  economic 
realm.  We  flatter  ourselves  that  such  democratic 
control  of  economic  life  will  bring  us  at  last  the 
perfect  freedom  for  which  men  have  been  laboring 
so  long.  But  let  us  not  be  deceived!  In  indus- 
try, exactly  as  in  the  church  and  in  the  state, 
it  will  need  but  a  moment's  peril  to  rob  us  of  all 
the  freedom  which  we  apparently  had  won.  In 
Russia  today  w^e  see  a  perfect  instance  of  this  fact. 
Here  the  revolution  has  taken  place,  and  a  vast 
new  experiment  in  democracy  is  launched !  Every 
true  lover  of  progress  desires  this  experiment  to 
succeed.  But  almost  from  the  beginning,  liberty 
has  broken  down;  and  autocracy,  by  the  deliberate 
choice  of  the  men  in  control,  has  been  lifted  into  its 
place.  In  other  words,  for  the  sake  of  democracy, 
as  we  are  told,  the  tyranny  of  the  Czar  has  been 
succeeded  by  the  tyranny  of  the  Bolsheviki.  The 
revolutionists  tell  us  that  their  power  could  not 
have  been  sustained  and  their  work  thus  continued 
if  they  had  trusted  absolutely  to  the  ideal  prinei- 


92  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

pies  of  social  freedom.  This  is  undoubtedly  true! 
But  again  we  raise  the  question  as  to  why,  in  order 
to  protect  liberty,  this  liberty  should  forthwith  be 
abandoned?  Here  is  a  paradox  which  simply  defies 
explanation!  Such  return  to  the  practice  of  cen- 
tralized authority  may  be  justified,  of  course,  in 
a  hundred  ways.  It  may  be  described  as  wise, 
prudent,  necessary,  inevitable.  But  one  thing  at 
least  cannot  be  said  of  it,  and  that  is  that  it  is 
democratic!  We  may  argue  until  "the  crack  o' 
doom,"  but  it  will  still  remain  indubitable  that 
democracy  is  not  democracy  when  liberty  is  over- 
thrown. Some  secret  here  is  not  yet  solved.  Some 
saving  principle  there  is  which  we  have  not  yet 
discovered.  Democracy  undoubtedly  means  at 
bottom  the  action  of  free  men  in  a  free  world ;  but 
it  is  also  something  more  and  better  than  this,  and 
it  is  this  more  and  better  that  we  must  find. 


In  seeking  this  further  democratic  principle, 
where  can  we  better  turn  than  to  that  intensive 
study  of  human  nature,  which  revealed  to  us  the 
basis  for  the  ideal  of  individual  liberty?  In  this 
first  examination  of  man's  being,  we  discovered  his 
primary  instinct  of  self-preservation;  and  on  this 
we  established  that  political  and  economic  prin- 
ciple of  laissez  faire,  which  we  believed  would  work 
out  automatically  in  terms  of  social  order.  In  this 
interpretation  of  human  nature  we  were  right,  as 


RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   93 

far  as  we  went;  but  we  certainly  did  not  go  far 
enough,  for  there  is  more  in  man  than  the  mere 
passion  for  survival.  Side  by  side  with  this  basic 
instinct  of  the  soul  is  another  instinct,  equally 
basic,  which  is  of  opposite  character. 

This  instinct,  as  uncovered  in  the  animal  realm, 
is  what  Prince  Kropotkin  has  called  "mutual  aid.''^ 
Side  by  side  with  the  principle  of  "struggle  for 
survival,"  in  which  the  early  evolutionists  found 
the  secret  of  organic  development,  later  evolu- 
tionists found  the  principle  of  "struggle  for  the  life 
of  others."  The  brute  creatures  of  the  jungle  battle 
not  merely  in  aggression  against  their  enemies,  but 
in  defence  of  their  friends,  as  a  lioness  in  defence 
of  her  cubs  or  Darwin's  famous  baboon  in  defence 
of  his  forsaken  comrade.^  Many  of  them  live  not 
a  separate  existence  at  all,  but  pool  their  interests 
and  thus  develop  the  phenomenon  of  herds,  as  of 
elephants  and  deer,  and  flocks,  as  of  sheep.  All 
through  what  John  Burroughs  calls  "the  long  road" 
of  evolution,  animals  have  struggled  not  merely  for 
themselves  but  for  their  kind ;  have  been  dominated 
not  by  the  selfish  passion  of  survival  but  by  the 
unselfish  passion  of  sacrifice.  There  are  "cosmic 
roots,"  as  John  Fiske  expresses  it,^  "of  love  and  self- 
sacrifice";  and  these  roots  come  to  flower  in  the 
human  soul.  Man  is  indeed  a  creature  who  seeks 
the   preservation   of   his   own   personality;   he   is 


*  See  Mutual  Aid  a  Factor  of  Evolution. 

»  See  The  Descent  of  Man^  page  102. 

'  See  Through  Nature  To  God,  page  57.  Also  Henry  Drummond's 
Ascent  of  Man;  James  S.  Blxby's  The  New  World  and  the  New 
Thought;  and  John  C.  Kimball's  The  Ethical  Aspects  of  Evolution, 


94  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

swayed  again  and  again  in  fundamental  things  by 
the  motive  of  self-interest.  But  side  by  side  with 
this  instinct  is  the  supplementary  instinct  of 
sociality.  Along  with  his  passion  to  save  himself 
is  his  passion  to  save  his  mate.  Man  cannot  live 
alone;  he  must  have  company  if  he  would  be  sane 
and  happy.  It  is  G.  K.  Chesterton  who  refers  to 
a  certain  lunatic  asylum  in  England  as  a  place 
inhabited  by  those  who  believe  absolutely  and 
exclusively  in  themselves.  Rudyard  Kipling's  acute 
psychological  story  of  the  death  of  one  of  two  men 
upon  a  lightship  on  the  ocean  and  the  tragic  loss 
of  reason  by  the  unhappy  man  who  was  left  alone, 
is  familiar.  The  pages  of  history,  as  H.  G.  Wells 
has  been  lately  showing,  bear  nothing  but  the 
record  of  man's  unquenchable  desire  to  live  in 
association  with  his  fellows,  and  of  his  age-old 
experiments  in  the  form  of  tribes,  clans,  city- 
states  and  nations  to  satisfy  this  desire.  Whether 
he  will  or  no,  in  other  words,  man  must  love.  It 
is  a  very  part  of  his  nature  to  seek  and  hold  to 
fellowship  with  members  of  his  own  kind.  The 
barriers  that  divide  have  no  such  significance  as 
the  bonds  that  unite.  At  bottom,  we  are  not  rivals 
but  comrades,  not  enemies  but  friends.  We  belong 
together.  To  be  members  one  of  another  is  as 
original  and  fundamental  a  part  of  our  being  as 
to  be  ourselves.  Nay,  to  be  thus  members  one  of 
another,  is  alone  to  be  really  and  nobly  ourselves. 
For  the  transition,  or  translation,  from  selfishness 
to  unselfishnesis,  from  individuality  to  fellowship, 


EELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   95 

brings  us  at  last  to  the  triumphant  truism  that 
man  can  realize  his  own  self  only  through  associa- 
tion with  and  love  of  other  selves.  Brotherhood  in 
thought  and  life  is  alone  salvation.  "He  who 
findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it,"  said  Jesus,  "and  he 
who  loseth  his  life   .    .    .    shall  find  it.'' 

Now  here,  in  this  tremendous  discovery  of  the 
social  instinct  inherent  in  human  nature,  do  we 
find  answer  to  our  inquiry  as  to  the  "coefficient" 
of  freedom.  Democracy  means  free  men;  but  it 
also  means  free  men  joined  together  in  the  bond 
of  fellowship.  Democracy  means  the  emancipated 
individual;  but  it  also  means  the  organization  of 
those  individuals  into  a  social  order  that  is  held 
together  not  by  outward  authority  but  by  inward 
consent.  It  is  this  discovery  which  brings  to  us  in 
this  modern  age  our  new  task  of  democracy.  Yes- 
terday our  task  was  to  deliver  men  from  the  insti- 
tutional tyranny  of  church  and  state  and  property. 
This  task,  especially  in  the  field  of  industry,  is  still 
undone,  and  will  long  remain  undone;  but  today 
this  task  of  individual  emancipation  is  no  longer 
primary.  In  its  place  there  stands  the  new  task 
of  finding  the  ways  and  means  of  so  ordering  free 
men  that  they  may  be  controlled  and  disciplined 
without  sacrifice  of  individual  freedom.  The  secret 
of  this  miracle  is  fellowship.  Already  in  the 
religious  field  there  are  some  groups  of  Christians 
who  have  been  able  to  organize  themselves  success- 
fully without  the  recognition  of  any  ruler  or  the 
establishment  of  any  hierarchy.    Thus  among  the 


96  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

Friends  do  we  find  freedom,  complemented  by  a 
spiritual  fellowship  which  realizes  the  essence  of 
democracy.  The  same  thing  has  been  deliberately 
sought,  but  never  yet  successfully  realized,  in  the 
sphere  of  government.  Certainly  it  was  this 
thought  of  fellowship,  as  contrasted  with  authority, 
which  our  fathers  had  in  mind  when  they  wrote 
that  immortal  phrase  about  all  "just  governments 
deriving  their  powers  from  the  consent  of  the  gov- 
erned." In  the  industrial  field,  even  before  men 
have  themselves  been  wholly  freed  from  tyranny, 
we  find  great  experiments  in  fellowship  in  such 
organizations  as  the  cooperative  societies  of  Bel- 
gium, Denmark  and  Russia,  and  such  labor  groups 
as  the  trade  unions  of  England  and  America.  On 
the  whole,  however,  this  task  is  still  before  us. 
We  have  achieved  much  freedom,  only  to  throw 
it  wantonly  away  whenever  it  is  threatened.  Now, 
holding  fast  to  the  liberty  thus  dearly  bought,  it  is 
for  us  to  seize  upon  the  second  and  higher  principle 
of  life,  the  source  of  all  order  and  the  secret  of  all 
joy — namely,  the  association  of  man  with  man  in 
one  high  fellowship  of  the  spirit — and  build  out 
of  it  that  social  structure  which  shall  bring  at  last 
the  realization  of  our  hopes. 

What  this  social  structure  shall  be  when  ulti- 
mately realized  in  ideal  form,  we  find  suggested  in 
our  present-day  community,  with  its  great  variety 
of  institutions  and  forms  of  associated  activity. 
The  whole  basis  of  democracy,  as  thus  conceived, 
may  be  said  to  be  the  community.    This  is  the  cen- 


EELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES   97 

tral  fact,  the  primal  cell,  so  to  speak,  which  is  the 
unit  of  the  whole.  Around  the  community  turns 
the  movement  of  democracy ;  out  of  it  proceeds  the 
structure  of  democracy.  Whether  it  be  political 
government,  trade  unionism,  guild  socialism,  coop- 
eration, the  soviet,  the  basic  unit  of  integration  is 
still  that  locale  where  men  live  and  work  together, 
the  socialization  of  which  constitutes,  therefore, 
the  organism  of  their  common  life.  The  community 
may  be  described  as  democracy  made  manifest.  It 
is  the  "body"  in  which  "the  spirit''  of  freedom  and 
fellowship,  which  is  "the  Word,"  becomes  "flesh." 

VI 

Such  is  democracy  in  its  ideal  estate !  As  applied 
to  religion,  it  represents  the  exact  antithesis  of  that 
denominationalism  which  characterizes  so  uniquely 
the  Protestant  world.  Denominationalism  has  its 
origin  in  intolerance  and  bigotry;  democracy,  in 
that  sense  of  liberty  which  practices  toleration  as 
its  primal  virtue.  Denominationalism  works  out 
into  a  type  of  separatism  which  divides  men  into 
scores  of  competitive  and  warring  camps;  democ- 
racy on  the  other  hand  fulfills  itself  in  a  sense  of 
fellowship  which  unites  men  in  the  service  of 
one  another.  Denominationalism  inevitably  takes 
refuge  in  some  form  of  authority  for  the  imposi- 
tion upon  unwilling  souls  of  uniformity ;  democracy 
glories  in  the  abrogation  of  every  last  trace  of  auto- 
cratic control,  and  seeks  uniformity  only  as  a  spon- 


98  NEW  OHUECHES  FOR  OLD 

taneous  development  from  within  of  that  conscious- 
ness of  common  life  which  is  the  community  in 
action.  Denominationalism  means  reliance  upon 
dogmas,  institutions,  a  creed  and  church;  democ- 
racy means  confidence  in  men — in  men  as  indi- 
viduals seeking  the  fulfillment  of  their  native 
powers  in  terms  of  abundant  life,  as  brothers  seek- 
ing their  happiness  in  terms  of  social  welfare. 

Of  such  democracy,  of  course,  we  have  but  an 
imperfect  beginning  at  the  present  moment.  We 
have  entered  only,  and  all  to  inadequately,  upon 
the  use  of  liberty,  which  means  hardly  more  today 
than  a  gross  battle  between  individuals  and  groups 
or  classes  of  individuals,  for  social  predominance. 
All  about  us  are  institutions  of  authority,  sustained 
and  reverenced  as  means  of  establishing  some  type 
of  order  in  these  internicine  struggles.  Freedom 
to  tyrannize,  to  exploit,  to  mount  and  hold  the  seats 
of  power,  with  not  a  vestige  of  that  fellowship 
which  marks  the  fulfillment  of  the  community  ideal 
— ^this  is  what  our  democracy  too  often  means 
today !  But  blind  is  he  who  sees  nothing  more  in  the 
liberty  thus  gained  and  used  than  a  continued  battle 
for  power  and  place.  Not  always  will  freedom 
thus  be  abused  or  neglected.  As  men  struggle  one 
with  another,  as  class  battles  selfishly  with  class, 
as  revolutions  upheave  the  strata  of  society  and 
reorder  arrangements  among  men,  we  can  see 
always  a  broadening  of  the  social  base  and  a  widen- 
ing of  the  barriers  of  brotherhood.  Slowly  but 
surely,   with  much  "groaning  and  travailing  to- 


RELIGION  OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCHES  99 

gether,"  freedom  is  making  its  way  to  fellowship, 
and  both  to  the  community  ideal.  Democracy  is 
not  here,  but  is  coming !  Some  day  there  shall  be 
among  us  a  free  fellowship  of  free  men,  to  the  end 
of  the  common  service  of  the  common  good. 

This  it  is  which  Paul  foresaw  when,  in  his  first 
Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  he  wrote,  ^^We  being 
many  are  one  body  in  Christ,  and  every  one  mem- 
bers one  of  another/'  Nobler  still  is  that  modern 
statement  of  democracy  which  is  given  to  us  by 
Edward  Carpenter,  in  his  great  book  entitled 
Towards  Democracy,  "In  the  deep  eaves  of  the 
heart,''  he  writes,  "far  down,  running  under  the 
outward  shows  of  the  world  and  of  people,  running 
under  continents,  under  the  fields  and  the  roots  of 
the  grasses  and  trees,  under  the  little  thoughts  and 
dreams  of  men,  and  the  history  of  races,  I  see,  I 
feel  and  hear  wondrous  and  divine  things.  I  seem 
to  see  the  strands  of  affection  and  love,  so  tender, 
so  true  and  life-long,  holding  together  the  present 
and  past  generation.  ...  I  dream  that  these  are 
the  fibres  and  nerves  of  a  body  ...  a  network, 
an  innumerable  vast  interlocked  ramification, 
slowly  being  built  up;  all  dear  lovers  and  friends, 
all  families  and  groups,  all  peoples,  nations,  all 
times,  all  worlds  perhaps,  members  of  a  body, 
archetypal,  eterne,  glorious,  the  center  and  perfec- 
tion of  life,  the  organic  growth  of  God  himself  in 
time." 

Here  is  our  final  word  in  interpretation  of  democ- 
racy.   Here  is  democracy  become  the  religion  of  the 


100  NEW  CHURCHES  FOR  OLD 

people,  of  which  we  spoke  in  the  beginning.  Democ- 
racy is  fellowship.  It  is  the  love  of  free  men  one 
for  another  in  a  community  of  experience  and 
service.  It  is  God  revealed  in  the  comradeship  of 
human  hearts.  It  is  indeed  the  "organic  growth  of 
God  himself  in  time.'' 


CHAPTEE  IV 
THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION 


"I  am  the  credulous  man  of  qualities,  ages,  races ; 
I  advance  from  the  people  in  their  own  spirit;    .    .    . 

'^I,  following  many,  and  foUow'd  by  many,  inaugurate 
a  Religion —   .    .    . 

"I  say  no  man  has  ever  yet  been  half  devout  enough ; 
None  has  ever  yet  adored  or  worshiped  half  enough ; 
None  has  yet  begun  to  think  how  divine  he  himself  is, 
and  how  certain  the  future  is. 

"I  say  that  the  real  and  permanent  grandeur  of  these 
States  must  be  their  Religion  ; 
Otherwise  there  is  no  real  and  permanent  grandeur. 

"Know  you !  solely  to  drop  in  the  earth  the  germs  of  a 
greater  Religion, 
The  following  chants  I  sing.'' 

,Walt  Whitman,  in 

Starting  From  Paumanok 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION 


Democracy,  thus  conceived  in  its  highest  terms 
as  fellowship,  constitutes  the  transcendent  reality 
of  modern  times.  It  is  life  as  we  know  it  today. 
Nevertheless,  as  we  have  seen,  it  is  just  this  reality 
which  the  churches,  so  hopelessly  obsessed  with  the 
ideas  and  practices  of  other  days,  will  not  or  cannot 
recognize.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  they  have  fallen 
into  a  state  of  collapse  from  which  there  is  appar- 
ently no  recovery! 

But  why  should  the  churches  recognize  democracy, 
or  take  its  world  of  secular  activity  for  their  own 
particular  field  of  operations?  Democracy,  in  its 
political,  economic  or  even  ecclesiastical  expressions 
of  social  endeavor,  can  hardly  be  identified  with 
religion.  In  religion  we  expect  to  find  God,  and 
here  we  have  gone  no  higher  nor  farther  than 
men — men  in  fellowship,  to  be  sure,  but  still  men. 
We  recall  that  Carpenter  calls  this  evolution  of  free 
society  ^^the  organic  growth  of  God  in  time";  but 
by  virtue  of  what  thought  does  he  rise  to  such  a 
conception,  and  by  what  syllogism  can  he  prove  it? 
Is  religion  suddenly  to  be  interpreted  in  a  different 


104  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOE    OLD 

way  from  what  it  has  ever  been  before?  Is  God  to 
be  regarded  not  as  a  being  but  as  a  process?  Are 
men,  after  all,  their  own  gods;  are  their  social 
institutions  churches ;  is  their  fellowship  one  with 
another,  grace?  If  so.  Where  is  the  basis  of 
religion?  What  new  foundations  can  be  planted 
for  the  old? 

II 

The  answers  to  these  questions  must  be  sought  in 
an  analysis  of  the  meaning  of  religion,  as  this  mean- 
ing has  been  modified  by  the  influences  which  have 
been  at  work  in  the  world  since  the  period  of  the 
Kenaissance. 

According  to  classic  definition,  religion  may  be 
said  io  constitute  a  relation  between  the  two 
fundamental  factors  of  spiritual  reality,  God  and 
the  soul.  Thus  Kant  defines  religion  as  "a  knowl- 
edge of  all  our  duties  as  divine  commands'' ;  Tylor, 
as  "the  belief  in  spiritual  beings" ;  Schleiermacher, 
as  "a  sense  of  dependence  upon  God.''  More  pop- 
ular definitions  are  seen  in  Lyman  Abbott's  state- 
ment that  "religion  is  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul  of 
man,"  and  Minot  J.  Savage's  evolutionary  formula 
that  "religion  is  man's  endeavor  to  get  into  right 
relations  with  God." 

In  the  past  only  one  of  the  two  factors  in  this 
relationship  has  been  emphasized — ^the  divine  and 
not  the  human.  The  accepted  basis  of  religion,  in 
the  churches  at  least,  has  always  been  God.  Just 
how  this  idea  of  God  originated,  how  it  has  been 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OP  RELIGION      105 

modified  through  the  ages  (polytheism,  henotheism, 
monotheism) J  by  what  means  it  has  been  verified, 
are  problems  which  cannot  be  discussed  in  this 
place.  Sufficient  is  it  for  us  to  note  that,  wherever 
in  the  past  religion  has  come  to  the  point  of  organ- 
izing itself  in  the  form  of  temples,  priesthoods, 
sacred  books  and  holy  days,  central  to  the  whole 
system  of  institutions  has  been  a  preconceived 
abstraction  known  as  deity.  God  is  here  regarded 
as  an  absolute — the  absolute  from  which  all  reality 
in  time  and  space  derives  its  being.  Just  how  there 
can  be  any  derivation  from  an  absolute  is  one  of 
the  riddles  on  which  theologians  have  most  persist- 
ently exercised  their  wits.  Some  have  sought  an 
answer  in  the  conception  of  all  things  existing  in 
God,  as  oxygen  exists  in  water ;  others  have  thought 
of  God  as  casting  off  emanations  of  his  being  as  a 
fire  throws  out  sparks  into  the  darkness,  or  a  planet 
flings  its  vortex  rings  into  the  void;  the  popular 
mind  has  satisfied  itself  with  crude  pictures  of  God 
as  a  creator,  fashioning  the  world  and  its  inhab- 
itants as  a  savage  moulds  clay  images,  or  a  watch- 
maker manufactures  watches.  But  always  at  the 
heart  of  all  these  speculations  has  been  the  thought 
of  God  as  an  absolute,  and,  therefore,  a  being  apart. 
God  is  the  maker  of  time,  and  yet  himself  outside 
of  time!  He  fills,  or  at  least  controls,  space,  and 
yet  himself  is  beyond  and  above  all  space — "an 
absentee  deity,"  to  quote  the  familiar  phrase  of 
Carlyle!  He  is  the  source  of  all  change,  and  yet 
himself  unchanged,  unchanging  and  unchangeable! 


106  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

He  is  revealed  "in  miracle  and  sign/'  and  yet  him- 
self unsearchable,  unseen,  remote!  Here  is  the 
factor  which  is  central  in  religion  as  it  has  always 
been  understood  and  interpreted  in  the  past.  God 
is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the  whole  phenom- 
enon. Eeligion  centers  about  the  deity,  as  the  earth 
centers  about  the  sun.  Religion  and  theism  are 
synonymous,  as,  per  contra^  religion  and  atheism 
are  antithetical. 

What  this  exclusive  stress  upon  God  has  meant 
to  the  other  factor  in  the  relationship — namely, 
man — is  shown  by  the  whole  history  of  organized 
religion.  Man's  duty  in  life  has  been  conceived  as 
of  a  three-fold  nature.  In  the  first  place,  he  must 
find  God — discover  not  by  hearsay  but  by  experi- 
ence that  God  is  the  central  reality  of  life.  Sec- 
ondly, he  must  know  God — understand  his  will  as 
formulated  in  laws  which  are  the  commandments 
of  the  soul.  Lastly,  he  must  obey  God — give  alle- 
giance to  his  will  as  a  good  citizen  gives  allegiance 
to  the  statutes  of  his  country,  or  as  a  good  soldier 
to  the  orders  of  his  captain.  Upon  his  fulfillment 
of  these  obligations  to  the  divine  depends  his  salva- 
tion in  eternity.  If  he  would  live,  in  the  true  spir- 
itual sense  of  this  great  word,  he  must  surrender 
himself  utterly  unto  God.  How  this  shall  be  done, 
man  is  not  left  helplessly  by  himself  to  discover. 
On  the  contrary,  God  has  inspired  prophets,  writ- 
ten scriptures,  performed  miracles,  established 
churches,  worked  out  and  revealed  an  ordered 
(system  of  redemption,  that  man  might  be  left  in 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       107 

no  doubt  as  to  where  and  what  is  the  way  of  life. 
But  it  is  for  him  to  say  whether  or  not  he  shall 
walk  in  this  way,  and  thus  know  God  alone. 

From  this  standpoint,  religion  represents  the 
sharpest  possible  distinction  between  the  world 
and  God.  The  religious  life  must  be  understood 
as  something  altogether  apart  from  life  as  we  live 
it  in  our  every-day  affairs.  It  is  an  experience 
which  enters  into  no  other  relationship  of  men. 
To  be  faithful  to  wife  and  children,  to  be  honest 
in  business,  to  be  loyal  to  country,  to  love  one's 
neighbor,  to  serve  humanity — these  things  are 
excellent  in  themselves,  and,  from  the  point  of 
view  of  earth,  are  duties.  But  they  are  secular 
duties,  and  not  sacred.  They  are  ethical  and  not 
spiritual  fidelities.  They  are  not,  in  other  words, 
religion!  For  religion  has  to  do  not  with  family, 
or  business,  or  nation,  or  mankind,  but  with  God; 
and  our  duty  to  God  is  discharged  only  by  those 
special  observances  of  faith  and  worship  which  the 
churches  have  so  carefully  formulated  as  a  help 
to  man  in  his  quest  of  the  divine.  Hence  the 
importance  of  creeds  and  rituals,  of  prayers  and 
sacraments,  of  scriptures,  sabbaths  and  "holy 
church"!  Of  course,  to  the  worldly  man  these 
things  are  vain,  for  this  man  does  not  know  nor 
care  about  God.  He  is  "of  the  earth,  earthy,"  and, 
therefore,  the  moralities  of  earth  seem  to  him  to  be 
enough.  But  to  the  religiously  minded  man,  these 
things  are  all  in  all,  for  they  are  the  way,  and  the 
only  way,  to  God. 


108  NEW   CHURCHES    FOK    OLD 

III 

This  understanding  of  religion  remained  un- 
shaken until  the  Renaissance,  when  there  came 
changes  which  were  revolutionary  in  character. 

These  began  with  what  we  have  already  noted 
as  the  distinctive  feature  of  the  Renaissance — 
namely,  the  rediscovery  of  man.  For  a  thousand 
years  and  more,  under  the  obsession  of  theistic 
absolutism,  the  race  had  been  lost  in  a  kind  of 
theological  slumber.  Through  all  this  time,  fit- 
tingly known  as  the  Dark  Ages,  human  interest 
was  focussed  on  questions  of  the  Trinity,  the 
person  of  Christ,  the  Atonement,  the  nature  of 
transubstantiation,  the  authority  of  the  church, 
the  reality  of  heaven  and  hell.  The  minds  that 
led  the  thought  of  the  world,  from  Augustine  to 
Albert  Magnus,  concerned  themselves  with  nothing 
but  the  explanation  and  interpretation  of  Chris- 
tian dogma.  There  was  no  art  but  that  of  Biblical 
legend  and  ecclesiastical  tradition,  no  literature 
but  that  of  theologian  and  copyist,  no  philosophy 
but  scholasticism,  no  science  but  magic,  no  social 
movements  but  monasticism  and  the  crusades. 
The  world  was  as  completely  forgotten  as  though 
it  had  never  existed;  man  was  remembered  only 
as  a  single  factor  in  a  mystic  formula  of  salvation. 
Alone  in  all  this  period  of  darkness  was  Roger 
Bacon,  greatest  of  Europeans,  who,  as  one  curious 
not  of  heaven  but  earth,  not  of  godhead  but  of  the 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       109 

soul,   was  a  modern  man   born  centuries  before 
his  time. 

For  what  was  native  to  the  mind  of  Roger 
Bacon  came  to  Europe  only  through  that  Revival 
of  Learning,  which  brought  men  fresh  acquain- 
tanceship with  the  ancient  Greeks,  who  felt  so 
keenly  "the  wild  joy  of  living,"  studied  so  curiously 
the  mysteries  of  man  and  of  his  universe,  and 
registered  their  testimony  in  so  beautiful  an  art  and 
literature,  so  profound  a  science  and  philosophy. 
In  the  Greek  mind,  "man  (was)  the  measure  of  all 
things,"  and  not  "fear  of  the  Lord"  but  knowledge 
of  self  "the  beginning  of  wisdom."  The  renais- 
sance of  such  a  culture  among  the  people  of  the 
Middle  Ages  was  like  the  entrance  of  the  Prince 
into  the  garden  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty.  Instantly 
there  came  that  awakening  which  marks  the  birth 
of  modern  times.  Touched  by  the  magic  of  the 
classic  spirit,  men  shook  off  their  dream-like 
abstractions  of  deity  and  visions  of  eternity,  and, 
for  the  first  time  in  centuries,  looked  at  themselves 
and  their  world.  Petrarch  climbing  a  mountain  to 
view  the  landscape,  Galileo  fashioning  his  telescope 
and  hanging  his  pendulum,  Columbus  turning  the 
prow  of  his  Santa  Maria  into  the  Atlantic,  Gassendi 
and  his  atoms,  Newton  and  his  apple,  Harvey  and 
his  circulation  of  the  blood,  Descartes  and  his 
"cogito  ergo  sum" — these  are  symbols  of  an  age 
which  shook  the  world.  Exploration  and  discovery, 
science  and  philosophy,  art,  literature  and  music, 
came  to  their  own  again.     Men  looked  upward,  and 


110  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOR   OLD 

watched  the  stars;  looked  outward,  and  searched 
the  seas ;  looked  downward,  and  analyzed  the  earth ; 
looked  inward,  and  knew  the  soul ;  looked  backward, 
and  traced  history;  looked  forward,  and  prepared 
prophecies.  Not  inferno,  purgatory  and  paradise, 
but  ^^this  goodly  frame,  the  earth'' ;  not  angels  and 
demons,  but  men  and  women,  nations  and  peoples ; 
not  abstract  problems  of  theological  salvation,  but 
vast  works  of  discovery,  research  and  social  libera- 
tion— these  now  monopolized  attention.  Man  was 
at  the  center  of  the  stage.  His  life  in  this  present 
world,  life  within  his  soul  and  among  his  fellows, 
was  the  theme  of  the  drama.  The  principle  laid 
down  by  Pope  for  his  later  age,  that  "the  proper 
study  of  mankind  is  man,"  was  but  a  restatement 
of  what  the  race  now  knew  for  the  first  time  since 
the  proud  days  of  Socrates  and  Aristotle. 

IV 

Second  only  to  the  new  center  of  interest  is  the 
new  method  of  thought  characteristic  of  modern  as 
contrasted  with  medieval  times.  The  old  method, 
typically  theological,  was  what  is  known  as  deduc- 
tive. It  took  its  start  from  certain  ideas,  universal 
and  absolute.  Which  were  accepted  without  verifi- 
cation in  the  belief  that  they  were  revealed  to  man 
by  the  divine  consciousness,  or  were  themselves 
innate  in  the  human  consciousness  as  the  condition 
of  all  thought.  In  either  case  these  ideas  were 
"given,''  like  the  factors  of  a  geometrical  propo- 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       111 

sition,  and  all  other  truths  were  arrived  at  by  a 
process  of  deduction  from  these  original  axioms  of 
reality.  Thought,  in  other  words,  was  a  process  of 
intellectual  movement  from  above  downward,  of 
inference  from  things  eternal  to  things  temporal. 
In  asking  what  were  the  facts  in  a  given  situation, 
nobody  thought  of  doing  such  a  thing  as  observing 
or  investigating.  Rather  did  they  ask  what  the 
•^first  principles"  of  thought,  either  as  revealed  or 
innate,  made  necessary  in  this  situation,  and  then 
accepted  the  deduced  conclusion  without  question. 
If  facts  which  men  could  not  avoid  observing, 
seemed  to  contradict  the  deductions  from  these 
ideal  truths  which  were  "before  all  worlds,''  then 
they  could  not  be  facts.  They  must  be  chopped  off 
forthwith  from  the  body  of  reality,  like  the  limbs 
of  unhappy  victims  who  did  not  fit  the  famous  bed 
of  fabled  Procrustes.  Facts  were  nothing  as  com- 
pared with  "ideas,"  to  use  the  Platonic  phrase. 
Facts  were  in  all  cases  to  be  adapted  to  thought, 
and  not  thought  to  facts. 

In  Christianity,  of  course,  the  basic  ideas  were 
those  inwrought  in  that  great  system  of  dogma, 
which  began  with  Paul,  was  elaborated  by 
Augustine,  and  was  completed  by  the  great  school- 
men of  the  later  Middle  Ages.  The  Triune  God, 
the  created  world,  fallen  man,  atonement  achieved 
by  the  sacrificial  blood  of  Christ,  the  resurrection 
and  ascension,  the  last  day — ^these  were  the  truths 
which  were  revealed  from  out  the  mind  of  God,  and 
therefore  subject  not  to  inquiry  but  to  acceptance. 


112  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

Whatever  else  men  desired  to  know  must  be  in- 
ferred or  deduced  from  these  dogmas  of  the  church. 
These  things  stood,  like  the  Ptolemaic  earth;  and 
round  them  as  a  center  swept  the  lesser  spheres  of 
truth. 

With  the  opening  of  the  Renaissance  came  a 
reversal  of  method  as  revolutionary  as  the  Coper- 
nican  theory  of  the  universe.  The  new  method, 
which  was  coincident  with  the  birth  of  modern 
science,  and  which  may  therefore  be  known  as  the 
scientific,  in  contrast  to  the  theological,  method,  is 
inductive  in  process.  It  takes  nothing  for  granted ; 
accepts  nothing  as  necessarily  true;  knows  nothing 
either  of  revelations  or  innate  ideas.  It  simply 
finds  itself  confronted  with  certain  realities  of 
experience,  inquires  as  to  the  nature  of  these 
realities,  induces  from  the  facts  observed  and  tested 
certain  hypotheses  or  postulates  of  reason,  and 
holds  these  general  propositions  to  be  true  until 
discovery  of  new  facts  enforces  revision.  This 
method,  as  can  be  seen,  is  the  exact  opposite  of  the 
deductive  method.  It  moves  from  below  upward, 
from  particulars  to  universals,  from  things  tem- 
poral to  things  eternal.  Its  adaptations  are  of 
ideas  to  facts,  instead  of  facts  to  ideas.  It  knows 
no  certainties,  but  only  possibilities  and  probabili- 
ties. Especially  is  its  spirit  investigative  rather 
than  assertive,  agnostic  rather  than  dogmatic.  The 
inductive  method  of  thought  is  by  no  means'  uni- 
versal in  application.  Deduction  still  has  place,  as 
witness  its  use  by  Hegel  in  his  idealistic  specula- 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       113 

tions,  and  by  Herbert  Spencer  in  his  Synthetic 
Philosophy.  But  this  place  is  hardly  more  than 
corrective  or  confirmatory  of  inductive  processes. 
We  think  today  in  terms  of  facts;  are  willing  to 
think  only  as  far  as  these  facts  can  take  us. 

What  this  new  method  of  thought  means  to 
religion,  must  be  evident.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  as 
we  have  seen,  God  was  taken  for  granted.  So  were 
his  attributes,  his  acts,  his  purposes!  These  were 
known  by  processes  of  revelation,  were  not  to 
be  questioned  (this  was  heresy!),  and  stood  per- 
manently as  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  knowl- 
edge. The  world,  the  life  of  man,  the  destiny  of 
man,  were  what  the  revelation  of  God  permitted 
them  to  be,  and  nothing  other.  Today,  however, 
we  claim  to  know  nothing  of  God  in  the  beginning 
at  all.  We  know  only  what  we  see  about  us  or  feel 
within  us — in  other  words,  what  we  experience,  and 
what  this  experience  may  reasonably  be  taken  to 
mean.  Our  starting  point  is  the  world,  the  human 
beings  who  are  in  the  world,  above  all  the  souls  or 
spirits  which  seem  to  be  resident  in  these  human 
beings.  If  these  realities  lead  us  to  inductions  of 
experience  which  seem  to  suggest  or  reveal  God — 
well  and  good !  We  will  accept  him,  worship  him, 
serve  him.  But  it  is  man  first,  and  not  God!  It 
is  as  much  of  God  only  as  man  may  seem  to  suggest 
or  prove!  Above  all,  is  it  God  revealed  by  man, 
and  not  man  by  God!  Our  revelation  today  is 
from  earth  to  heaven,  from  clod  to  God — not  vice 
versa,  as  in  old  days ! 


114  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

That  this  inductive  or  scientific  process  of 
thought  brings  us  God  more  surely  than  any  reve- 
lation of  inspired  scripture  or  infallible  church, 
there  are  many  to  assert.  But  it  is  a  deity  very 
different  in  character  from  the  being  known  to  the 
theologians  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  contrast  may 
be  best  summed  up  in  the  two  words,  "transcendent'' 
and  "immanent.''  The  immanent  God  was  not 
unknown  before  the  Renaissance,  but  he  was  in- 
variably an  outcast.  He  was  the  deity  of  heretics — 
theologians  like  Scotus  Erigena,  mystics  like 
Abelard  and  Eckhart.  The  transcendent  God 
was  necessarily  the  deity  to  live  with  the  deductive 
processes  of  medieval  thought.  By  the  same  token 
is  the  immanent  deity  the  God  for  a  scientific  or 
humanistic  age.  We  know  God  today  only  as  we 
seem  to  find  him  present  in  nature  and  in  the  heart 
of  man.  If  he  lives  at  all,  therefore,  he  lives  here 
among  us,  and  not  there  above  us. 

"Closer  is  he  than  breathing,  nearer 
than  hands  and  feet," 

says  Tennyson.  And  yet,  strangely  enough,  the 
measure  of  his  proximity  in  spirit  is  likewise  the 
measure  of  his  indefiniteness  in  character.  In  the 
days  of  his  transcendence,  God  was  as  definite  a 
person  as  any  king  or  emperor.  No  one  felt  any 
shock  when  Michael  Angelo  presented  the  Divine 
Being  in  precise  pictorial  form  in  his  Sistine 
frescoes.  How  great  the  shock,  however,  when  in 
our  day  Sargent  painted  God  upon  the  walls  of  the 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       115 

Boston  Public  Library!  However  intimately  we 
may  feel  the  Divine  Presence  in  our  lives,  we  can- 
not see  this  presence  with  any  distinctness  in  our 
mind's  eye.  God  seems  to  be  like  the  cloud  in  the 
sky.  Afar,  the  cloud  takes  a  definite  shape,  like 
Hamlet's  "camel"  or  "weasel."  Close  at  hand,  it 
is  only  a  fog  which  envelops  and  holds  us.  Thus, 
when  God  was  far  away,  "on  the  rim  of  the 
Universe,"  as  Carlyle  put  it,  we  knew  something 
about  him,  could  see  him  as  well  as  feel  him. 
Now  that  he  is  close  at  hand,  an  immanent  presence 
within  us  and  about,  we  know  little  of  what  he  is. 
So  do  we  turn  the  nearer  to  earth's  realities,  and 
seek  in  them  the  "God  who  is  our  home" ! 


But  there  is  a  third  change,  incident  to  modern 
times,  which  is  still  more  important  than  any  yet 
mentioned.  We  refer  to  that  revolution  in  man's 
whole  attitude  toward  the  world  which  is  incidental 
at  once  to  the  new  center  of  attention,  and  to  the 
new  method  of  inquiry,  which  are  characteristic  of 
the  present  age.  What  man  saw  in  medieval  days, 
when  the  transcendent  God  of  revelation  was  at  the 
heart  of  things,  was  a  miracle;  what  he  sees  today, 
as  he  follows  through  that  scientific  study  of  the 
present  world  which  may,  or  may  not,  lead  to 
conscious  intellectual  recognition  of  the  God 
immanent  in  all  things,  is  a  natural  process.  This 
change  had  its  beginning,  of  course,  in  the  dis- 


116  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

covery  of  what  we  know  today  as  natural  law — ^the 
truth,  in  other  words,  that  the  operations  of  the 
universe  are  all  parts  of  an  unbroken  system  of 
order,  subject  to  no  chance  or  accident  from  within, 
and  no  intrusion  from  without.  It  reached  what 
may  be  regarded  as  its  triumphant  vindication  in 
the  doctrine  of  evolution,  which  presents  all 
phenomena  as  manifestations  of  a  single  principle 
of  creative  life — an  elan  vitale^  to  quote  Bergson, 
which  flows  in  its  upper  and  human  reaches  as  a 
river  in  which  "souls  are  continually  being  created 
.  .  .  (as)  little  rills  into  which  the  great  river  of 
life  divides  itself,  flowing  through  the  body  of 
humanity.  ...  As  the  smallest  grain  of  dust  is 
bound  up  with  our  entire  solar  system  ...  so  all 
organized  beings,  from  the  humblest  to  the  highest, 
from  the  first  origins  of  life  to  the  time  in  which  we 
are,  and  in  all  places  as  in  all  times,  do  but  evidence 
a  single  impulsion.  .  .  .  All  the  living  hold 
together,  and  all  yield  to  the  same  tremendous 
push.''  ^ 

At  once  the  universe  became  a  closed  circuit. 
The  supernatural  was  eliminated,  the  natural  made 
inclusive  of  everything.  If  a  phenomenon  appeared 
which  seemed  to  be  outside  of,  or  contradictory  to, 
the  natural  order,  this  was  no  longer  attributed  to 
divine  or  supernatural  agencies.  It  was  simply 
assumed  that,  in  this  particular  case,  observation 
was  defective,  or  knowledge  incomplete,  and  that 
further  inquiry  would  bring  the  phenomenon,  if  it 


^See  his  Creative  Evolution,  pages  269,  271. 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       117 

were  real  at  all,  inside  "the  reign  of  law."  Nor 
has  experience  in  the  last  three  hundred  years  ever 
failed  in  the  end  to  justify  this  confidence  in  the 
integrity  of  the  cosmic  process !  Today  the  postu- 
late of  the  natural,  as  contrasted  with  the  super- 
natural, is  become  an  axiom  of  thought. 

What  this  change  in  attitude  means  to  religion, 
is  easily  understood.  In  the  old  days,  religion  was 
uniformly  regarded  as  supernatural  in  origin  and 
character.  Both  in  the  individual  life  and  in  the 
social  history  of  the  race,  it  was  an  experience 
which  lay  altogether  outside  the  area  of  normal  life. 
Its  source  was  God  and  not  man,  and  its  quality 
therefore  divine  in  contradistinction  to  all  that  we 
know  as  human.  Eevelation,  inspiration,  conver- 
sion, miracles,  signs  and  portents,  all  these  are  so 
many  processes  or  events  which  indicate  the  special 
and  abnormal  character  which  religion  has  borne 
in  all  ages  preceding  modern  times,  and  still  bears 
very  largely  in  this  present  age. 

The  sudden  shift  from  the  supernatural  to  the 
natural,  which  was  so  characteristic  of  the  Renais- 
sance and  after,  was  inevitably  accompanied  by  a 
movement  of  extreme  revulsion,  representing  an 
antagonistic  and  even  destructive  point  of  view. 
This  found  vivid  expression  in  the  free  thinkers  or 
rationalists  of  the  seventeenth  and  especially  the 
eighteenth  century,  of  whom  Voltaire  and  the 
Encyclopedists  are  the  preeminent  examples.  These 
philosophers  of  the  Illumination  came  to  think  of 
religion  and  all  its  concomitant  phenomena  as  the 


118  NEW   CHUKCHES   FOE    OLD 

product  of  a  vast  conspiracy,  deliberately  concocted 
by  the  priesthoods  of  primitive  ages  for  the  intel- 
lectual and  moral  enslavement  of  mankind.  So  out 
of  place  did  religion  seem  in  a  world  coming  to  be 
interpreted  in  naturalistic  terms  that  no  other 
explanation  of  its  origin  seemed  adequate.  If  not 
supernatural,  it  must  be  artificial.  The  whole 
theory  of  conspiracy,  confidently,  even  passionately 
adhered  to  by  some  of  the  great  social  liberators  of 
the  race,  represented  an  instinctive  reaction  of  the 
rationalistic  impulses  from  a  theological  orthodoxy 
which  was  miraculous  or  supernatural  throughout. 
Today,  however,  in  our  better  balanced  and 
infinitely  better  informed  time,  this  supposition  of 
conspiracy  as  an  explanation  of  religious  history, 
seems  as  ridiculous  as  anything  that  ever  appeared 
in  the  doctrine  of  so-called  revelation.  It  also 
seems  unnecessary.  For  we  have  come  to  under- 
stand, in  the  light  of  modern  scientific  knowledge, 
that  religion  is  a  social  phenomenon  which,  like  all 
other  phenomena  of  the  kind,  is  a  natural  product 
of  man's  adjustment  to  his  world.  Modern  students 
of  the  question  are  almost  unanimous  in  finding 
the  origin  of  religion  in  the  social  experience  of  the 
race,  and  thereby  afllrming  its  purely  naturalistic 
character.  "Religion  arises  naturally,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Edward  Scribner  Ames,^  "being  an  inherent 
and  intimate  phase  of  the  social  consciousness"  of 
man.  This  social  consciousness,  he  continues,  must 
be  regarded  "as  the  very  essence  of  religion,"  thus 


*  In    his    Psychology    of    Religious    Experience,    pages    49-50,    110- 
111,  249. 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  KELIGION       119 

^^identifying  religion  with  social  phenomena."  In 
content  religion  must  be  described  as  only  "the 
most  intimate  phase  of  the  group  consciousness  .  .  . 
in  its  first  form  a  reflection  of  the  most  important 
group  interests  through  social  symbols  and  cere- 
monials based  upon  the  activities  incident  to  such 
interests."  Even  the  inner  personal  experience  of 
religion  in  the  single  individual  "resolves  itself  into 
the  question  of  the  origin  of  his  social  conscious- 
ness." ^  We  are  religious,  in  other  words,  not 
because  of  any  fraudulent  imposition  from  without 
at  the  hands  of  cunning  priestcraft,  but  simply  and 
solely  because  of  our  natural  reaction  as  human 
beings  to  those  social  experiences  and  aspirations 
which  are  of  highest  permanent  value  in  the  life  of 
the  race.  In  its  development,  exactly  as  in  its 
origin,  religion  never  leaves  the  level  of  normality. 
"Religion  is  subject  to  the  same  determining  factors 
as  are  other  social  phenomena — such  as  language, 
art,  domesticity,  patriotism.  In  any  society  all 
persons  are  likely  to  experience  these  to  some 
extent,  but  it  is  not  due  to  their  native  endowments 
alone,  nor  to  accidental  circumstances,  but  to  the 
operation  of  social  forces  within  the  experience  and 
consciousness  of  each  person."  ^  There  are  mystical 
elements  in  us  all,  of  course ;  but  the  mystical  is  as 
natural  as  the  physical  or  mental,  and  is  at  work 
as  normally  in  religion  as  in  art,  music,  or  some 
great  movement  of  reform.  Religion  is  simply  the 
supreme  expression  of  human  nature;  it  is  man 


^Ames,    page  197. 
'Ames,  page  214. 


120  NEW   CHUECHES    FOE    OLD 

thinking  his  highest,  feeling  his  deepest,  and  living 
his  best. 

There  is  nothing,  therefore,  miraculous,  special 
or  even  strange  about  religion.  The  church  is  as 
natural  an  institution  as  the  state,  the  priest  as 
normal  an  historical  figure  as  the  king,  worship  as 
inevitable  an  expression  of  human  life  as  the  drama 
or  the  dance.  Especially  since  the  coming  of 
evolution,  with  its  transmission  of  revealing  light 
from  biology  to  history,  psychology  and  sociology, 
has  religion  taken  its  true  place  in  the  story  of  the 
development  of  the  race.  Man's  relations  with  his 
fellows  in  the  social  group,  reacting  upon  the  secret 
forces  if  his  inner  nature,  give  us  in  religion  as 
native  a  product  of  the  soul  as  music,  poetry,  or 
family  love.  Man  is  essentially  religious  as  he  is 
essentially  mystical  and  social,  that  is  all;  and 
through  this  channel  of  spiritual  expression,  as 
through  other  channels  of  physical,  intellectual  and 
artistic  expression,  his  life  pours  itself  forth  in 
resistless  flood.  There  is  no  mystery,  therefore, 
about  religion,  save  as  life  in  all  its  forms  is 
mystery.  There  is  nothing  terrible  about  it — 
nothing  unusual,  certainly  nothing  miraculous  or 
strange.  What  we  have  here  is  what  we  have  every- 
where else — not  a  miraculous  appearance,  but  a 
natural  process.  It  is  like  the  stars  flaming  in  the 
sky — like  the  grasses  springing  from  the  soil. 

"Out  of  the  heart  of  Nature  rolled 
The  burdens  of  the  Bible  old ; 
The  litanies  of  nations  came, 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  EELIGION       121 

Like  the  volcano's  tongue  of  flame, 
Up  from  the  burning  core  below — • 
The  canticles  of  love  and  woe.'' 

Religion  is  therefore  natural,  human,  in  origin. 
It  is  the  expression,  or  still  better,  the  creation,  of 
the  soul.  In  this  fact  is  the  evidence  of  its  validity. 
As  well  question  man's  tears  or  laughter,  as  to 
question  his  habit  of  prayer.  To  regard  a  hearth- 
stone with  reverence  and  an  altar  with  scorn,  is  to 
be  hopelessly  inconsistent.  More  real  than  any 
God  revealed  from  heaven,  is  the  God  whom  man 
has  found  in,  or  deliberately  fashioned  from,  the 
raw  materials  of  his  experience.  For  man  is  his 
own  creator.  He  makes  the  world  to  suit  his  needs. 
He  cries.  Let  there  be  God,  and  there  is  God !  The 
divine  undoubtedly  existed  "before  all  worlds,''  but 
God  came  only  with  the  heart  of  man. 

VI 

Such  were  the  changes  wrought  by  the  forces  let 
loose  by  the  Renaissance.  They  all  meant  for  reli- 
gion one  simple  thing — the  substitution  of  man  for 
God  as  the  center  of  spiritual  consciousness.  In  due 
course,  these  changes  proved  their  presence  in  the 
vast  upheaval  of  the  Reformation ;  but  were  quickly 
estopped,  first  by  a  Catholicism  which  committed 
itself  permanently  to  reaction  in  the  Council  of 
Trent,  and  secondly  by  a  Protestantism  which 
swung  itself  back  in  resistance  against  the  very 
forces  which  had  given  it  birth.     What  was  choked 


122  NEW   CHUKCHE8    FOR    OLD 

here,  however,  forced  other  channels  and  over- 
flowed the  world.  Little  by  little,  as  the  tide  of 
intellectual  and  social  liberation  swept  about  its 
bulwarks,  Christianity  crumbled,  and  at  last,  under 
the  impact  of  the  evolutionary  science  and  phil- 
osophy, collapsed.  Movements  appeared  on  every 
hand  which  deliberately  offered  themselves  as  sub- 
stitutes for  traditional  religion — radical  Unitarian- 
ism,  for  example,  of  the  Parker  type,  with  its 
substitution  of  human  nature  for  divine ;  Rational- 
ism, with  its  challenge  of  faith  by  reason;  Posi- 
tivism, with  its  enthronement  of  Humanity  in  place 
of  God;  Ethical  Culture,  with  its  offering  of  ethics 
in  place  of  dogma!  More  serious  and  significant 
was  that  vast  movement  of  revolt  against  all 
organized  religion  whatsoever,  which  in  the  past 
two  generations  has  swept  the  majority  of  our 
western  world  outside  the  churches,  and  thus 
brought  these  churches  face  to  face  with  the  most 
critical  situation  which  they  have  encountered  since 
the  day  when  Luther  nailed  his  theses  to  the 
cathedral  doors  in  Wittenberg.  Today  the  shift 
in  values  is  become  complete.  Humanism,  not 
theism,  is  the  basis  of  our  thought.  Man,  not  God, 
is  the  center  of  our  faith  and  the  object  of  our  hope 
and  love.  We  have  a  new  religion,  which,  like 
St.  John's  "tabernacle  of  God,''  is  "with  men,"  but, 
unlike  that  tabernacle,  descends  not  "out  of 
heaven,"  but  builds  itself  stone  by  stone  upon  the 
earth ! 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       123 

VII 

But  is  this  religion?  Does  not  this  humanism, 
which  we  call  a  shift  of  emphasis  from  God  to  man, 
accomplish  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  elimination  of 
God  from  his  universe,  and  thus  destroy  that  very 
relationship  of  the  soul  with  God  which  constitutes 
the  essence  of  spiritual  experience? 

So  it  may  seem,  to  those  whose  deity  is  that 
remote,  transcendent,  preconceived  absolutist  ab- 
straction described  in  the  Nicene  Creed  as  ^^God, 
the  Father  Almighty,  Maker  of  Heaven  and  earth, 
and  of  all  things  visible  and  invisible";  in  the 
Anglican  "Articles  of  Religion"  as  the  "one  living 
and  true  God,  everlasting,  without  body,  parts,  or 
passions,  of  infinite  power,  wisdom  and  goodness, 
the  Maker  and  Preserver  of  all  things  visible" ;  and 
finally  in  the  famous  Savoy  Declaration  (1658), 
as  the  "only  living  and  true  God,  who  is  infinite 
in  Being  and  Perfection,  a  most  pure  Spirit, 
invisible  .  .  .  immutable,  immense,  eternal,  in- 
comprehensible, almighty,  most  wise,  most  holy, 
most  absolute,  working  all  things  according  to  the 
Counsel  of  his  own  immutable  and  most  righteous 
Will  .  .  ."  This  deity  is  dead.  Indeed,  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  ever  really  lived.  Is  it  an  accident 
that  he  was  presented  and  for  ages  worshiped  in 
a  language  not  understood  of  the  common  people? 
For  the  God  whom  men  and  women  have  known 
and  loved  is  altogether  apart  from  the  speculations 
of   theologians   and   the   dogmatic    legislation    of 


124  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR    OLD 

church  councils.  They  have  had  no  more  to  do 
with  the  God  of  Augustine  and  Calvin  than  with 
the  pope  or  king  himself.  Unable  to  see  his  person 
or  feel  his  presence,  the  common  folk  have  sought 
the  divine  in  Christ,  who  took  on  himself  the  flesh 
and  ^^was  tempted  even  as  we  are";  in  Mary,  who 
at  least  shared  with  men  the  great  experience  of 
parenthood ;  in  the  saints,  who  walked  the  earth  in 
suffering,  and  won  their  sanctity  through  virtue; 
in  the  Bible,  which  was  transcribed  by  men,  and 
told  of  the  sorrows  and  sins  of  men;  in  the  world 
of  Nature,  which,  in  mountain  and  glen,  river  and 
sea,  was  haunted  by  spirits  of  gracious  or  grim 
mystery.  They  have  persisted  in  believing,  as  by 
a  divine  intuition,  that  God  is  not  distant  but  near 
at  hand,  not  unseen  but  seen,  walking  the  earth  as 
in  the  garden  of  old  Eden,  wrapped  in  the  common- 
place of  human  love  as  in  the  miracle  of  incarna- 
tion. And  in  this  they  have  been  right,  as  judged 
at  least  by  the  religious  geniuses  of  every  age.  For 
these  prophets  of  the  soul  have  distinguished  them- 
selves from  priests  and  theologians  and  ecclesiastics 
by  nothing  so  much  as  their  humanization  of  the 
divine.  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  supreme  exemplar 
of  spiritual  vision  and  understanding,  was  above  all 
things  else  a  humanist.  The  Renaissance  was  as 
truly  a  revival  of  his  mind  as  of  the  mind  of  the 
Greeks.  Jesus  cared  nothing  about  Jehovah  of 
Zion.  He  scorned  the  metaphysical  refinements  of 
the  Jewish  law.  He  hated,  like  another  Isaiah,  the 
f eastings  and  fast-days,  the  sacrifices  and  offerings 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OP  RELIGION      125 

of  tlie  temple.  From  all  these  artificialities  lie 
turned  away,  and  concerned  himself  with  man  and 
his  world.  He  looked  on  the  birds  of  the  air  and 
the  lilies  of  the  field;  he  walked  with  men  in 
the  pastures  and  on  the  highroads;  he  taught  of 
righteousness,  justice,  and  love  one  for  another;  he 
prophesied  of  the  day  when  wars  should  cease,  and 
poverty  be  no  more,  and  justice  everywhere  be  done 
upon  the  earth.  This  was  his  religion — the  present 
scene  transfigured  into  beauty ;  the  daily  task,  lifted 
to  the  challenge  of  more  abundant  life !  This  was 
his  God — ^the  passion  of  tenderness,  and  the  love  of 
brotherhood  and  peace !  This  was  his  heaven — the 
Kingdom  of  God  interpreted  in  terms  of  the  com- 
monwealth of  man!  Jesus  had  no  theology,  he 
wrote  no  creed,  he  built  no  church.  He  simply 
lived  and  taught  that  life  of  love  which,  binding 
men  to  one  another,  thereby  binds  them  together 
with  God. 

It  is  this  religion,  centered  thus  in  man,  which 
was  restored  and  vindicated  by  the  Renaissance. 
The  forces  released  by  this  great  awakening  smote 
hard  upon  the  church ;  but  touched,  as  by  a  magic 
wand  of  life,  the  human  soul.  It  was  as  though 
men  had  been  long  hidden  away  in  dungeons,  and 
now,  with  the  opening  of  great  doors,  saw  again  the 
world  and  one  another.  And  in  both,  by  sure 
intuitions  of  the  inner  spirit,  they  discovered  God ! 
Not  that  divine  abstraction  which  is  the  monstrous 
birth  of  dogma,  but  that  warm,  ever-present  source 
of  creative  energy  which  is  in  and  through  all 


126  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

things.  Not  that  transcendent,  absolutist  deity 
who  is  outside  the  universe,  remote  from  the  life  as 
well  as  the  understanding  of  men,  but  that  im- 
manent spirit  of  evolving  life  which  is  the  inmost 
center  of  existence.  ^^God  is  love" — the  love  that 
holds  the  stars,  that  unfolds  the  flowers,  that  binds 
the  creature  to  his  mate.  God  is  the  love  that 
stirred  in  the  dark  primeval  ooze  of  the  undated 
past;  moved  through  aeons  as  an  unconquerable 
•^urge''  to  higher  and  yet  higher  forms  of  existence ; 
and  now  at  last  possesses  man,  whom  it  has  grown 
from  out  the  quickened  womb  of  earth,  and  lifts  to 
that  great  fellowship  of  heart  with  heart  which  is 
the  secret  of  life  eternal.  God  is  the  love  that  binds 
husband  to  wife,  parent  to  child,  friend  to  friend, 
patriot  to  country,  the  prophet  to  truth,  the  martyr 
to  his  cause.  God  is  the  love  that  stirs  in  every 
crusade  for  justice,  every  high  endeavor  for  liberty 
and  right,  every  transcendent  sacrifice  for  mankind. 
To  love  another  human  soul  better  than  oneself,  to 
love  many  souls  in  tenderness  and  pity,  to  love 
humanity  with  a  passion  that  laughs  at  death — this 
is  to  find  God,  and  to  love  and  serve  him.  Which 
means  that  religion  may  be  defined,  from  this  human- 
istic viewpoint,  as  fellowship  of  man  with  man  in 
the  service  of  the  common  life !  The  relation  of  the 
soul  with  God,  in  other  words,  is  indirect  and  not 
direct.  It  is  only  through  their  relation  of  love 
with  one  another,  that  men  can  find  God.  For  it 
is  this  relationship  which  reveals  God.  Nay,  can 
we  not  say  that  it  is  this  relationship  which  creates 


THE  NEW  BASIS  OF  RELIGION       127 

God — that  God  comes  into  existence  and  accom- 
plishes his  will  on  earth,  only  as  men  have  love  one 
for  another,  and  consecrate  this  love  in  a  fellowship 
of  service.  Jesus  certainly  implied  as  much  when, 
in  the  mystic  formula  of  his  time,  he  said  of  God — 
"Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my 
name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them."  ^  H.  G. 
Wells  nobly  paraphrased  this  definition  of  divine 
reality  when  he  wrote  that  God  is  "The  King  who 
is  present  when  just  men  foregather.''  ^ 

VIII 

Such  is  our  new  basis  of  religion !  And  what  is 
this  but  the  democracy  which  we  have  described  as 
beginning  with  the  discovery  of  man,  and  ending  in 
its  ideal  attainment  with  the  fellowship  of  men? 
It  is  in  this  humanistic  sense  that  the  vast  move- 
ment of  democracy.  Which  has  been  sweeping  the 
world  in  the  last  two  hundred  years,  may  be 
accurately  defined  as  the  new  religion  of  our  time. 
Religion  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word  has  left  the 
churches,  and  entered  into  the  world.  Not  in 
Catholicism  nor  in  Protestantism  can  be  found  the 
creative  spiritual  forces  which  are  fashioning  God's 
Kingdom  at  this  moment.  Rather  are  these  to  be 
found  where  "just  men  foregather"  to  advance  the 
cause  of  democracy  by  establishing  freedom  and 
fellowship  in  all  political,  industrial  and  social 
relationships  among  men.     This  means  a  new  re- 


^  Matthew  18:20. 

^Mr.  Britting  Bees  It  Through,  page  442. 


128  NEW  CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

ligion,  a  new  church.  It  means  that  to  us  is  com- 
mitted the  task  of  fulfilling  the  spiritual  promise 
which  was  disclosed,  but  all  too  soon  betrayed,  by 
the  Reformation.  Our  age,  if  it  be  faithful  to 
itself,  shall  bring  that  true  reformation  for  which 
men  have  labored  and  still  yearn. 


CHAPTER  V 
SACRED  AND  SECULAR 


^*We  men  of  Earth  have  here  the  stuff 
Of  Paradise — we  have  enough! 
We  need  no  other  stones  to  build 
The  stairs  into  the  Unfulfilled — 
No  other  ivory  for  the  doors — 
No  other  marble  for  the  floors — 
No  other  cedar  for  the  beam 
And  dome  of  Man's  immortal  dream. 

"Here  on  the  paths  of  every-day — 
Here  on  the  common  human  way 
Is  all  the  stuff  the  gods  would  take 
To  build  a  Heaven,  to  mould  and  make 
New  Edens.    Ours  the  stuff  sublime 
To  build  Eternity  in  Time !" 
Edwin  Markham, 

"Earth  Is  Enough,"  in 

The  Shoes  of  Happiness 


CHAPTER  V 
SACRED  AND  SECULAR 


What  this  new  basis  of  religion  means  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  new  structure  of  spiritual  faith  to 
be  reared  upon  it,  would  require  a  volume  in  itself 
for  the  telling.  Religion  thus  interpreted  in  terms 
of  humanism  would  assuredly  reverence  truth  and 
not  tradition,  practice  liberty  and  not  bow  down 
before  authority,  be  humble  and  not  dogmatic  in 
temper,  have  more  interest  in  this  world  than  in  the 
next,  trust  reason  and  the  heart  of  man,  cling  fast 
to  experience  as  the  sole  test  of  reality.  To  inter- 
pret all  these  implications  of  humanism,  however, 
is  not  our  business  in  this  place.  For  we  are  con- 
cerned not  so  much  with  religion  in  general,  as  with 
those  particular  aspects  of  religion  which  are 
involved  in  the  problem  of  its  social  organization. 
Our  subject  is  the  churches  and  their  relation  to 
the  vital  needs  of  men.  This  means  that  we  may 
consider  only  those  special  changes  wrought  by  the 
substitution  of  the  humanistic  for  the  theistic  point 
of  view,  which  bear  directly  upon  the  question  of 
new  churches  for  old. 

131 


132  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE   OLD 

II 

First  among  such  changes  incident  to  the 
humanistic  interpretation  of  religion,  is  the  wiping 
out  of  the  age-old  distinction  between  what  we  have 
learned  to  call  the  sacred  and  the  secular. 

This  distinction,  which  divides  the  world  into  two 
"water-tight"  compartments,  so  to  speak,  had  its 
origin  in  the  traditional  absolutist  idea  of  God. 
This  deity,  as  we  have  seen,  was  transcendent  in 
character,  and  therefore  remote,  or  even  wholly 
separated,  from  his  universe.  There  were  times 
and  places,  however,  when  he  came  into  contact 
with  the  earth.  There  were  occasions,  in  other 
words,  when  business  was  transacted  between  God 
and  man.  Sometimes  the  initiative  in  the  joining 
of  these  occasional  relationships  was  taken  by  God. 
Thus,  "in  the  beginning,''  God  created  "the  world 
and  all  that  therein  is."  Later  on,  for  the  guiding 
and  guarding  of  humanity,  he  ordained  certain 
laws,  which  were  formulated  into  "commandments" 
or  sacred  codes.  Thereafter,  from  time  to  time,  he 
revealed  his  presence  among  men  and  his  interest 
in  their  welfare,  by  performing  miracles  in  the 
natural  world,  and  by  inspiring  prophets  with  mes- 
sages and  visions.  His  supreme  act  of  this  kind, 
of  course,  was  his  sending  to  men  "his  only  begot- 
ten Son,  that  they  who  believed  on  him  might  have 
eternal  life." 

On  the  other  hand,  initiative  in  this  matter  of 
bringing  God  into  touch  with  the  life  of  his  children 


SACKED  AND  SECULAR  133 

on  the  earth,  was  often  taken  by  men.  All  the 
activity  of  our  churches,  in  days  gone  by,  and  still 
very  largely  at  the  present  moment,  may  not 
unfairly  be  described  as  an  organized  and  concerted 
endeavor  on  the  part  of  men  to  open  up  communi- 
cation with  the  deity,  and  persuade  him  to  enter, 
if  only  for  a  moment,  into  human  affairs.  Have 
not  men  worshiped  and  offered  sacrifice  that  God, 
like  a  king  upon  his  throne,  may  be  well-pleased, 
and  his  anger  therefore  turned  away?  Have  not 
men  prayed  that  God  may  be  persuaded  to  send  rain 
upon  the  dry  ground,  or  still  the  waves  upon  the 
sea,  or  bring  healing  to  the  sick?  Have  not  men 
trained  and  supported  priests  to  serve  as  ambas- 
sadors to  the  courts  of  the  Most  High,  who  by  their 
knowledge  and  experience  may  gain  hearings  and 
win  favors  which  would  be  denied  to  ordinary  sup- 
plicants? The  whole  business  of  traditional  re- 
ligion— its  churches,  its  priests,  its  sacraments,  its 
services,  its  paraphernalia — is  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  a  persistent  attempt  to  break  through  the 
barrier  which  divides  divinity  from  humanity,  and 
thus  "acquaint  men  at  first  hand  with  Deity." 

Now  the  points  where  God  and  man  thus  come, 
or  try  to  come,  into  contact,  constitute  what  is 
called  the  "sacred.''  Everything  outside  of  these 
is  called  the  "secular."  The  latter  area  of  life 
comprises  men  and  all  relations  between  men;  the 
former  includes  only  God  and  relations  between 
God  and  men.  From  this  standpoint,  the  sacred  is 
not  diflftcult  to  define.     Saturday  is  a  sacred  or  holy 


134  NEW   CHUKCHES   FOR   OLD 

day  to  the  Jews,  because  Jehovah  completed  the 
task  of  creation  "on  the  seventh  day";  Sunday  is 
holy  to  Christians,  because  Christ  rose  from  the 
dead  on  that  day.  The  Bible  is  a  sacred  or  holy 
book,  because  it  contains  "the  word  of  God"  as  in- 
fallibly revealed  to  prophets  and  apostles.  The 
ehurch  is  holy,  because  it  is  here  that  God  is  wor- 
shiped and  his  message  heard.  The  services  or 
meetings  in  a  church  are  holy,  having  a  saving 
efficacy  not  contained  in  other  public  gatherings, 
because  in  them  the  name  of  God  is  invoked  and  his 
presence  known.  The  utensils  or  instruments  of 
worship,  such  as  images,  pictures,  robes,  crosses, 
eucharist  cups,  etc.,  are  sacred,  because  they  are 
dedicated  to  holy  offices  and  used  only  in  worship 
of  the  Most  High.  Priests  are  sacred  personages, 
because  they  have  commerce  with  God  in  their 
official  intercessions  for  mankind.  In  the  same 
way  a  spot  of  ground,  on  which  a  miracle  has  been 
performed,  is  regarded  as  sacred.  Palestine, 
because  it  was  the  scene  of  the  life  and  death  of 
Jesus  Christ,  is  "the  holy  land."  Pieces  of  the  true 
cross,  the  bones  of  saints,  an  amulet  or  trinket 
which  has  been  blessed,  even  the  pages  of  a  Bible, 
are  held  sacred,  and  thus  believed  to  heal  disease, 
insure  personal  safety,  or  reveal  hidden  truths, 
because  of  their  association  with  sacred  events  or 
persons. 

Anything,  in  short,  is  sacred  which  may  be 
regarded  as  pertaining  to  God  rather  than  to  men. 
Even  thought  concerning  God  and  his  works  has  a 


SACRED  AND  SECULAK  135 

sacred  character  wliicli  holds  it  apart  from  thought 
on  any  other  subject.  This  is  the  origin  of  the  idea 
that  the  pulpit  should  discuss  only  "spirituaP' 
themes — by  which  is  meant  themes  which  have  no 
conceivable  relationship  with  the  burning  social 
problems  of  the  hour;  and  the  church  keeps  itself 
altogether  apart  from  the  issues  of  war  and  peace, 
capital  and  labor,  women  and  children  in  industry, 
public  ownership,  etc.  These  matters,  just  because 
they  involve  preeminently  the  things  of  this  world, 
are  secular,  not  sacred;  and  therefore  properly  to 
be  considered  as  outside  the  province  of  religious 
interest  and  attention.  The  separation  between 
God  and  his  world,  in  other  words,  is  absolute ;  and 
absolute,  therefore,  must  be  the  separation  between 
the  phenomena  which  belong  to  each. 

Ill 

It  is  interesting  to  see  with  what  success  this 
distinction  between  sacred  and  secular  has  been 
maintained.  The  two-compartment  mind,  of  course, 
is  familiar,  although  it  appears  only  now  and  then 
in  a  way  to  attract  amazed  attention.  The  case  of 
the  great  English  scientist,  Michael  Faraday,  is  an 
excellent  case  in  point.  Faraday  was  a  chemist 
and  electrician,  whose  discoveries  are  among  the 
most  notable  in  the  history  of  modern  scientific 
research.  In  his  particular  department  of  electro- 
magnetism,  his  immortal  discovery  was  that  of  the 
induction  of  electric  currents — which  means  that 


136  NEW   CHUKCHES   FOR    OLD 

modern  electrical  science  goes  back  to  Faraday  for 
its  beginnings,  as  modern  medical  science  goes  back 
to  Pasteur.  In  keenness  of  observation,  boldness 
of  experimentation,  acuteness  of  inductive  reason- 
ing, and  solid  worth  of  material  achievement,  he 
was  excelled  by  few,  if  any,  of  his  eminent 
contemporaries. 

Now  contrast  with  this  Faraday's  religious  life ! 
A  member  of  the  greatest  scientific  societies  of  his 
time,  he  was  also  a  member  of  the  little  Sande- 
manian  sect  of  Christians,  an  obscure  group  of 
English  dissenters  never  more  than  a  few  thousand 
in  numbers,  and  with  few  exceptions,  of  which 
Faraday  was  the  most  conspicuous,  composed  of 
men  and  women  of  the  most  illiterate  type.  The 
theology  of  this  sect,  based  on  an  unquestioning 
acceptance  of  the  Bible  as  the  full,  final  and  infal- 
lible revelation  of  God,  was  crude  in  the  extreme. 
Its  practices  were  a  rough  and  almost  ludicrous 
attempt  to  revive  the  practices  of  early  Chris- 
tianity. Its  rule  of  life  was  confession  of  sin, 
abandonment  of  reason  in  matters  of  faith,  and 
humble  acceptance  of  the  atoning  grace  of  Christ. 
To  the  tenets  of  this  peculiar  sect,  Faraday  gave 
humble  allegiance  through  all  his  days;  and  did 
this  by  severing  his  rational  and  his  spiritual  life 
with  an  absoluteness  well-nigh  unexampled  in 
human  experience.  Answering  an  inquiry  of  his 
friend.  Lady  Lovelace,  about  his  philosophy  of 
religion,  he  wrote,  "There  is  no  philosophy  in  my 
religion.    .    .    .    Though  the  natural  works  of  God 


SACRED  AND  SECULAR  13T 

can  never  by  any  possibility  come  in  contradiction 
with  the  higher  things  that  belong  to  our  future 
existence,  still  I  do  not  think  it  at  all  necessary  to 
tie  the  study  of  the  natural  sciences  and  of  religion 
together;  and  in  my  intercourse  with  my  fellow- 
citizens,  that  which  is  religious  and  that  which  is 
philosophical  have  ever  been  two  distinct  things/' 
Opening  a  lecture  on  Mental  Education,  he  said,  "I 
believe  that  the  truth  (of  things  spiritual)  cannot 
be  brought  to  man's  knowledge  by  any  exertion  of 
his  mental  powers — that  it  is  made  known  to  him  by 
other  teaching  than  his  own,  and  is  received 
through  simple  belief  of  the  testimony  given.  .  .  . 
It  would  be  improper  to  enter  upon  this  subject 
further  than  to  claim  an  absolute  distinction  be- 
tween religion  and  ordinary  belief."  A  friend 
writes  that  "when  he  entered  a  meeting-house,  he 
left  his  science  behind,  and  he  would  listen  to  the 
prayer  and  exhortation  of  the  most  illiterate 
brother  of  his  sect  with  an  attention  which  showed 
how  he  loved  the  word  from  whomsoever  it  came." 
It  was  the  characteristic  statement  of  John  Tyndall 
that  "when  he  opened  the  door  of  his  oratory,  he 
closed  that  of  his  laboratory." 

Equally  impressive  is  this  two-compartment 
arrangement  as  it  appears  in  the  life  of  the  world 
at  large.  Monasticism  was,  of  course,  its  complete 
and  triumphant  expression  during  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  monks  were  holy  men  because  they  withdrew 
absolutely  from  contact  with  the  world ;  their  lives 
were  sacred  because  they  were  devoted  utterly  to 


138  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR    OLD 

the  service  of  God.  This  idea  of  complete  isolation 
has  in  our  time  largely  passed  away ;  but  still  today, 
even  in  the  lives  of  men  of  potent  influence  in  the 
world's  affairs,  this  separation  between  sacred  and 
secular  makes  significant  appearance.  John  Bright 
/and  John  Henry  Newman,  for  example,  w^ere  as 
nearly  exact  contemporaries  as  any  two  of  the  great 
men  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  former  was 
born  in  1811,  and  died  in  1889 ;  the  latter  was  born 
in  1801,  and  died  in  1890.  They  lived  in  the  same 
country,  for  a  time  in  the  same  city,  followed  public 
careers  during  exactly  the  same  period.  They  were 
preeminent  as  public  speakers,  Newman  being  the 
greatest  preacher,  and  Bright  the  greatest  platform 
orator,  of  the  century.  What  is  more,  they  were 
men  of  the  same  type — idealists  who  were  moved  to 
action  by  spiritual  passion.  And  yet  these  two 
great  leaders  were  as  completely  separated  from 
each  other  as  though  they  lived  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  globe.  The  name  of  Newman  does  not  appear 
at  all  in  Trevelyan's  Life  of  John  Bright^  and  the 
name  of  Bright  is  similarly  conspicuous  by  its 
absence  from  Ward's  Life  and  Letters  of  Cardinal 
Newman.  The  one,  as  a  churchman,  dealt  with 
sacred  things ;  the  other,  as  a  statesman,  dealt  with 
secular.  Therefore  they  moved  like  planets  of  dif- 
ferent solar  systems,  swinging  in  orbits  which  never 
intersected,  and  each  catching  no  single  vagrant 
beam  of  light  from  the  other.^ 


^  See  Henry  £2.  Jackson's  A  Community  Church,  page  325. 


SACKED  AND  SECULAR      139 

IV 

The  logic  of  this  idea  of  sacred  and  secular,  how- 
ever, means  not  only  the  separation  of  these  two 
spheres  of  life,  but  also  the  subordination  of  the 
latter  to  the  former.  Sanctity,  as  coming  from 
God,  necessarily  involves  a  primacy,  uniqueness, 
authority,  to  which  nothing  in  the  affairs  of  men 
can  lay  claim  for  a  single  instant.  From  this  view- 
point the  church  is  regarded  as  an  institution 
supreme  over  all  merely  human  institutions  what- 
soever, even  the  state.  The  Bible  stands  alone 
among  all  the  literatures  of  ancient  and  modern 
times;  what  it  teaches  must  be  accepted  as  the 
revelation  of  the  will  of  God,  and  therefore  the  law 
for  all  men  in  all  ages.  The  priest,  as  a  man 
occupying  a  holy  office,  must  be  regarded  as 
superior  in  character  and  authority  to  all  other 
men ;  hence  the  distinction  which  attaches  even  in 
Protestant  churches  to  the  minister,  as  signified  by 
his  formidable  title,  "Reverend."  The  Sabbath  is 
a  day  which  has  a  worth  infinitely  greater  than  that 
of  any  other  day  of  the  week ;  men  may  do  as  they 
please  on  Saturday  or  Monday,  but  on  Sunday  they 
must  occupy  themselves  exclusively  with  "redeem- 
ing the  time." 

Such  exaltation  of  the  sacred  above  the  secular 
has  led,  of  course,  to  the  out-and-out  enslavement 
of  mankind.  For  ages  men  and  women  have  been 
debased  to  the  ignominious  position  of  mere  instru- 
ments for  the  service  of  ecclesiastical  superstition 


140  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR    OLD 

and  power.  Mothers  bringing  their  first  born  to 
the  altars  of  the  temples,  that  they  may  be  slain  as 
sacrifices  to  the  gods;  Pharisees  laying  on  Jews 
the  yoke  of  the  Mosaic  law,  that  they  ma^  prove 
their  righteousness;  monks  and  nuns  taking  the 
vow  of  chastity,  that  they  may  be  delivered  from 
the  "sin"  of  sexual  intercourse  and  parenthood ;  the 
Emperor  Henry  standing  barefooted  in  the  snows 
of  Canossa,  in  sign  of  his  submission  as  head  of  the 
state  to  Pope  Gregory  as  head  of  the  church;  the 
Puritans  binding  society  in  the  strait-jacket  of 
their  rigorous  Sabbath;  scientists,  from  Galileo  to 
Huxley,  challenged  to  submit  their  conclusions  to 
the  test  of  conformity  with  creeds  and  Bible — these 
are  only  a  few  illustrations  of  what  we  mean  by 
the  subordination  of  things  secular  to  things 
sacred,  and  the  consequent  subjection  of  mankind. 
Through  all  these  ages  of  blank  superstition,  men 
and  women  were  mere  means  to  an  end  extraneous 
to  every  interest  that  pertained  to  life  in  this 
present  world.  Everything  that  was  merely  nat- 
ural and  human  was  described  as  wicked,  or  at  the 
best  of  no  importance.  To  feel  joy  in  the  beauties 
of  Nature,  to  give  free  expression  to  the  native 
impulses  and  faculties  of  the  soul,  to  investigate 
the  phenomena  of  earth  and  sky,  to  join  association 
in  comradeship  with  one's  fellows  and  thus  estab- 
lish home  and  country,  the  community  of  the 
common  life — all  this  was  to  surrender  to  the 
world,  and  to  forget  or  defy  God.  Man  had  no 
right  to  live  for  himself  or  his  fellows;  he  must 


SACRED  AND  SECULAR  141 

resolutely  avoid  the  temptation  to  laugh  and  play, 
practice  good  works,  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  love 
one  for  another;  he  was  a  sinner  if  he  busied  him- 
self with  such  worldly  relationships  and  activities. 
Man  was  made  not  for  himself,  but  for  God;  and 
must  therefore  conform  his  life  to  the  things  of  God. 
He  was  made,  in  other  words,  to  obey  the  church, 
to  believe  the  Bible,  to  accept  the  creeds,  to  observe 
the  Sabbath.  Such  subordination  of  the  secular  to 
the  sacred  was  the  condition  of  his  salvation. 


Into  the  gross  darkness  of  this  enslavement  of 
mankind  to  the  artificial  sanctities  of  the  church, 
broke  suddenly  the  light  of  the  Renaissance.  With 
the  discovery  of  man  which  marks  the  revolution  of 
this  epoch  as  fundamentally  a  movement  of 
humanism,  came  an  enfranchisement  of  man  which 
marks  it  as  a  movement  of  secularization.  By  this 
we  mean  that  one  consequence  of  man's  great 
awakening  at  this  moment  was  an  immediate  sub- 
stitution of  the  secular  for  the  sacred  as  the  focal 
point  of  human  interest  and  attention.  Every- 
where, as  we  have  seen,  men  turned  away  from  the 
church  to  the  world,  from  the  expectation  of  the  life 
to  come  to  the  realities  of  the  life  that  now  is,  from 
the  observance  of  sacred  duties  to  the  pursuit  of 
secular  activities.  Liberated  from  sacramental 
bondage,  they  found  themselves  free  to  exercise 
unsuspected  faculties  in  unexplored  areas  of  ex- 


142  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

perience.  This  is  the  explanation  of  the  science 
and  philosophy,  art  and  literature  which  so  sud- 
denly overwhelmed  the  scholasticism  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  marked  the  most  gorgeous  flowering  of 
human  genius  that  the  world  has  seen  since  the 
classic  days  of  Periclean  Athens.  This  is  the 
explanation  of  the  social  institutions  which  every- 
where sprang  up  for  the  service  of  man's  interests 
in  this  present  world,  and  in  a  generation  developed 
to  a  position  of  absolute  supremacy  over  the  church. 
This  is  the  reason  for  the  rigid  separation  of  church 
and  state,  and  that  dominance  of  political  over 
theological  issues  w^hich  so  dramatically  marks  off 
modern  from  medieval  times.  With  the  awakening 
of  the  Renaissance,  there  came  to  man  a  consuming 
interest  in  himself  and  in  his  world.  Nothing  could 
stand  in  the  way  of  his  imperious  passion  for 
knowledge,  experience,  self-expression.  He  must 
lay  hold  on  life,  though  he  be  damned  for  it.  So  a 
new  world  was  born ! 

Protestantism,  in  its  early  stages  of  development, 
was  a  direct  expression  in  the  field  of  religion  of 
this  revolting  spirit  of  the  Renaissance.  In  their 
rejection  of  the  sacred  hierarchy,  their  scorn  of 
sacraments  and  indulgences,  their  acknowledgment 
of  the  temporal  sovereignty  of  kings  and  princes, 
their  anarchical  proclamation  of  "the  priesthood  of 
the  common  man,"  the  early  reformers  seemed  to  be 
headed  straight  for  the  secularization  of  religion 
along  with  every  other  human  interest.  But  the 
reaction,  as  we  have  seen,  all  too  speedily  set  in! 


SACKED  AND  SECULAR  143 

The  reformers  were  amazed  and  alarmed  at  the 
consequences  of  what  they  themselves  had  done. 
Therefore  were  new  sanctities  created  to  take  the 
place  of  the  old;  the  Bible  supplanted  the  church, 
Sunday  observances  the  priestly  sacrements.  In 
course  of  time,  in  many  bodies  of  Protestantism, 
the  line  of  demarcation  between  sacred  and  secular 
was  drawn  more  sharply  than  it  had  ever  been  in 
the  heyday  of  papal  power.  Protestantism  outdid 
Catholicism  in  denouncing  art  and  literature,  out- 
lawing science,  banning  the  natural  pleasures  and 
pursuits  of  the  secular  life  as  "of  the  devil.''  The 
close  of  the  Great  War  has  brought  a  revival  of  this 
reaction,  which  shows  how  basic  still  in  the  thought 
of  the  churches,  Protestant  and  Catholic  alike,  is 
the  sense  of  the  distinction  between  the  sacred  and 
the  secular,  the  religious  and  the  irreligious  life. 

VI 

The  forces  let  loose  in  the  Renaissance,  however, 
could  not  be  stayed.  They  have  swept  on  through 
the  last  three  centuries  to  an  assertion  not  only  that 
man  has  a  right  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  his  secular 
interests  and  activities,  but  also  that  this  right  con- 
stitutes in  itself  a  sanctification  of  these  interests 
and  pursuits.  Boldly  they  have  hitched  their 
wagon  to  the  star  of  Jesus's  gospel,  as  it  blazes  in 
the  immortal  declaration  of  the  Nazarene  that  "the 
Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the 
Sabbath."     Here  was  a  pronouncement  by  a  master 


144  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

liumanist  of  revolt  against  the  artificialities  of 
"sacred"  and  "secular/'  as  imposed  by  the  Phar- 
isaical legalism  of  his  day.  Jesus  laid  his  ax  at 
the  root  of  the  tree  by  making  man — his  needs  and 
desires,  his  works  and  dreams — to  be  the  center  of 
spiritual  values.  He  set  forth  thus  early  the  prin- 
ciple which  Kant  laid  down,  in  the  true  spirit  of 
the  Renaissance,  that  man  was  not  a  means  to  any 
end,  not  even  those  of  religion,  but  was  "an  end  in 
himself.''  If  there  is  anything  sacred  in  the  world, 
therefore,  it  is  made  so  not  by  the  tradition  of  some 
divine  decree,  not  by  association  with  some  so- 
called  holy  day  or  book  or  institution,  but  by 
contact  with  some  phase  of  human  life.  Whatever 
serves  man's  needs,  liberates  his  faculties,  gives 
expression  to  the  dreams  and  visions  of  his  soul,  is 
the  work  of  his  hand  and  heart — ^^this  is  sacred! 
Sanctity  is  not  something  that  inheres  in  any  por- 
tion of  time  or  space.  It  is  not  a  quality  that  is 
native  to  any  section  of  the  cosmos.  Sanctity  is  a 
creation  of  man.  It  is  the  projection  of  the  human 
spirit  into  the  world  which  it  inhabits. 

Such  doctrine,  of  course,  means  a  complete 
reformulation  of  our  idea  of  the  sacred,  based  now 
on  the  concept  of  man  and  not  of  God.  It  means 
an  immediate  and  indefinite  extension  from  the 
particular  to  the  general,  from  the  one  to  the  many. 

Thus  Sunday  is  not  sacred,  as  distinguished  from 
the  other  six  days  of  the  week.  All  days  are  sacred 
because  men  use  them  for  their  good  purposes. 
Therefore  what  is  wrong  on  one  day,  is  wrong  on 


SACRED  AND  SECULAR  145 

every  other  day;  anything  that  is  right  to  do  on 
Monday,  is  right  also  to  do  on  Sunday.  If  Sunday 
has  any  particular  character,  it  is  because  men  have 
given  it  this  character  for  certain  uses  and  observ- 
ances to  the  end  of  human  welfare.  It  follows 
unescapably  that  what  has  been  given  can  at  any 
time,  by  common  consent,  be  taken  away  or 
changed. 

Similarly  the  Bible  is  not  a  sacred  book,  save  as 
all  great  literatures  may  be  deemed,  from  their 
origin  in  human  suffering  and  aspiration,  to  be 
sacred.  The  Bible  is,  in  the  Old  Testament,  an 
anthology  drawn  from  the  writings  of  the  ancient 
Hebrews;  in  the  New  Testament,  it  is  similarly  an 
anthology  drawn  from  the  writings  of  the  early 
Christians.  In  both  cases,  it  is  a  collection  of 
books  having  a  distinctive  and  very  precious 
spiritual  character;  but,  in  essence,  in  no  wise  dif- 
ferent from  the  literatures  produced  by  any  other 
peoples  of  ancient  or  modern  times.  From  the 
beginning  of  time  even  until  now,  men  have 
recorded  on  stone  or  parchment  or  printed  page  the 
confessions  of  their  souls.  In  every  country,  there 
are  books  or  documents  which  express  to  perfection 
the  national  genius,  or  mark  such  epochal  occasions 
in  the  life  of  the  group  that  they  come  in  time  to 
take  on  a  kind  of  sacred  character.  Thus  the 
Hebrews  had  their  psalms  and  prophecies  and 
Mosaic  laws,  the  Hindus  their  Vedic  hymns,  the 
Persians  their  Upanishads,  the  Romans  their 
Sybilline    oracles,    the    Chinese    their    Confucian 


146  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

books  of  wisdom;  and  the  Americans  today  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  Washington's  "Fare- 
well Address/'  Lincoln's  "Gettysburg  Speech," 
and  Julia  Ward  Howe's  "Battle  Hymn  of  the 
Republic" !  The  true  Bible  would  be  an  anthology 
drawn  from  all  the  great  literary  sources  of  ancient 
and  modern  times,  a  true  spiritual  deposit  of 
humanity.  For  as  James  Russell  Lowell  has  so 
well  written — 

"Slowly  the  Bible  of  the  race  is  writ, 
And  not  on  paper  leaves,  or  leaves  of  stone. 
Each  age,  each  kindred,  adds  a  verse  to  it. 
Texts  of  despair  or  hope,  of  joy  or  moan. 
While  rolls  the  sea,  while  mists  the  mountains  shroud. 
While  thunder's  surges  burst  on  cliffs  of  cloud, 
Still  at  the  prophets'  feet  the  nations  sit." 

Are  there  sacred  objects?  None  save  those  bap- 
tized by  the  spirit  of  human  use  and  reverence. 
More  sacred  than  the  paraphernalia  of  any  church 
are  the  homely  domestic  articles  brought  to  these 
shores  by  the  heroic  voyagers  of  the  "Mayflower," 
now  collected  and  guarded  by  pious  hearts  in  the 
Pilgrim  Hall  in  Plymouth.  More  sacred  than  any 
priestly  vestment  or  utensil,  is  the  little  christen- 
ing dress  blessed  by  the  love  and  wet  by  the  tears 
of  Barrie's  mother,  Margaret  Ogilvie.  Holier  than 
an  altar  is  a  hearthstone.  Nothing  has  any  holi- 
ness save  that  derived  from  the  human  lives  with 
which  it  has  been  associated.  Sacred  objects  are 
to  be  found  more  often  without  than  within  the 
church. 


SACRED  AND  SECULAR  147 

What  about  the  church  itself?  Is  this  sacred? 
Again  the  same  answer — that  it  has  no  sanctity 
apart  from  its  origin  and  character  as  a  social 
institution!  The  church,  like  the  state,  had  its 
beginnings  in  human  needs,  not  divine  purposes. 
As  it  serves  these  needs  and  gathers  in  time  the 
hoary  reverence  of  age,  it  tends,  like  every  other 
such  organization,  to  take  on  a  character  which 
ultimately  develops  into  a  hard  and  fast  dogma 
of  authority.  We  see  this  process  now  going  on 
in  the  case  of  the  American  state,  which  is  fast 
becoming  in  the  eyes  of  the  people  a  kind  of  sacred 
'Object,  like  the  Israelitish  Ark  of  the  Covenant, 
not  to  be  changed  nor  even  so  much  as  touched. 
We  are  forgetting  that,  in  the  eyes  of  the  founders 
of  this  republic,  "governments  are  instituted 
among  men"  to  "secure"  certain  human  "rights," 
and  that  "whenever  any  form  of  government 
becomes  destructive  of  these  ends,  it  is  the  right 
of  the  people  to  alter  or  to  abolish  it,  and  to  insti- 
tute a  new  government."  What  is  here  only  be- 
ginning with  the  state,  however,  has  long  since 
been  completed  with  the  church.  Both  processes 
are  the  same,  and  neither  has  validity.  The  phrase, 
"holy  church,"  is  a  misnomer.  The  church  is  not 
holy  by  virtue  of  any  quality  implicit  in  either 
its  origin  or  essential  character.  It  has  been  made 
holy,  as  the  home  and  the  school  and  the  state 
have  been  made  holy,  by  the  lives  of  the  men  and 
women  who  have  served  it,  and  whom  it  has  served. 
But  it  still  remains,  what  is  was  in  the  beginning. 


148  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

an  instrument  of  social  use,  to  be  maintained  so 
long  as  it  fulfills  its  appointed  functions,  to  be 
changed  from  time  to  time  in  any  way  that  may 
improve  its  efficiency,  to  be  cast  aside  or  destroyed 
so  soon  as  its  usefulness  is  done.  When  society 
has  developed  into  a  true  community,  the  church 
as  such  will  disappear,  for  society  will  then  be  in 
itself  the  church  as  God's  kingdom  on  the  earth. 
Even  religion  must  be  said  to  have  nothing 
especially  sacred  about  it.  As  there  are  no  ^^spir- 
itual" interests,  apart  from  general  social  inter- 
ests, which  belong  particularly  to  the  church  and 
its  pulpit,  so  there  is  no  one  movement  in  society 
which  is  to  be  characterized  in  distinction  from  all 
others  as  "religious."  What  is  true  is  that  man 
is  sacred.  Which  means  that  any  movement  which 
is  aimed  at  the  fuller  liberty  and  wider  fellowship 
of  the  human  race,  is  a  sacred  undertaking  and 
therefore  to  be  regarded  as  an  expression  of  the 
religious  consciousness!  Was  early  Christianity 
in  anything  more  truly  a  religion  than  in  its  strug- 
gles against  infanticide,  the  gladiatorial  games, 
and  the  subjection  of  women?  Has  the  presence 
of  religion  in  the  hearts  of  men  ever  more  truly 
proved  itself  than  in  the  battles,  fought  in  the  face 
of  pitiless  opposition,  for  the  abolition  of  the 
African  slave  trade,  the  emancipation  of  the 
chattel  slave,  and  the  deliverance  of  men  from 
ecclesiastical  and  political  tyranny?  Where  is 
religion  to  be  found  now  if  not  in  our  movements 
for  the  conquest  of  prostitution,  poverty,  the  liquor 


SACRED  AND  SECULAR  149 

traflQc,  child  labor,  industrial  autocracy,  race 
prejudice,  and  war?  These  evils  outrage  the  dig- 
nity of  human  nature,  defile  the  sanctity  of  the 
soul,  deny  to  millions  of  men  and  women  that  full 
expression  of  personality  which  alone  is  life,  and 
therefore  bring  challenge  to  religion.  ^^Here  are 
the  beggars  and  paupers,"  cried  Theodore  Parker 
to  the  slumbering  conscience  of  his  age,  ^^a  reproach 
to  our  civilization.  Here  are  the  drunkards,  the 
criminals,  the  abandoned,  sometimes  the  foe,  but 
oftener  the  victim,  of  society.  Every  almshouse 
shows  that  the  churches  have  not  done  their  duty. 
Every  jail  is  a  monument  on  which  is  writ  in  let- 
ters of  iron  that  we  are  still  heathens.  The  gal- 
lows, black  and  hideous,  lifts  its  arm,  a  sign  of 
our  infamy,  an  index  of  our  shame.  .  .  .  Shall 
justice  fail  and  perish  out  of  the  world  of  men? 
Shall  wrong  continually  endure?''^  Not  if  religion 
is  true  to  itself !  For  religion,  as  W.  E.  H.  Lecky 
has  well  defined  it,  is  that  "unselfish  enthusiasm 
uniting  vast  bodies  of  men  in  aspiration  towards 
an  ideal  and  proving  the  source  of  heroic  virtues."  ^ 
These  movements  are  our  present-day  crusades  for 
the  rescue  of  that  holy  sepulchre  which  is  the  heart 
of  man. 

In  this  identification  of  religion  with  the  larger 
human  interests  of  secular  emancipation,  we  have 
a  perfect  indication  of  our  assertion  that  democ- 
racy is  preeminently  the  religion  of  our  place  and 


^  See  his  sermon,  "The  True  Idea  of  a  Christian  Church",  in  Works, 
Volume  13. 

'See  his  History  of  Rationalism  in  Europe,  Volume  II,  page  216. 


150  NEW   CHURCHES    FOE    OLD 

time.  For  what  is  this  movement  but  an  attempt 
to  bring  utter  liberation  to  the  soul?  What  does  it 
strive  for  but  the  realization  among  men  of  that 
divine  fellowship  of  the  common  life  which  is  God's 
Kingdom  come  upon  the  earth?  Democracy,  in  all 
its  various  political,  economic  and  social  phases, 
seeks  simply  to  take  the  human  and,  by  a  process 
of  sublimation,  transform  it  into  the  divine.  It 
seeks  to  take  things  long  regarded  as  "common 
and  unclean'' — that  is  secular — and  prove  them 
to  be  holy.  Its  task  is  the  building  of  this  base 
material  of  earth  into  the  fair  structure  of  the 
heaven  of  our  dreams.  In  any  true  sense  of  the 
word,  this  is  religion.  Democracy  is  nothing  other 
than  the  spirit  of  Jesus  at  work  in  our  time. 

VII 

But  if  this  is  the  "sacred,"  w^hat  is  left  of  the 
"secular"?  There  is  nothing  left.  All  is  sacred; 
or,  from  the  orthodox  theological  standpoint,  all  is 
secular!  The  course  of  human  events  since  the 
Renaissance  has  again  and  again  been  described 
by  the  church  as  a  process  of  secularization.  It 
may  much  more  truly  be  described  as  a  process  of 
sanctification.  The  real  change  is  not  that  the 
sacred  has  been  secularized,  but  that  the  secular 
has  been  sanctified.  In  either  case,  however,  the 
distinction  between  sacred  and  secular  has  been 
abolished. 

This  does  not  mean  materialism  or  secularism^ 


SACKED  AND  SECULAR  151 

Rather  does  it  mean  recognition  of  reality  at  its 
true  worth.  It  means  acceptance  of  the  world, 
faith  in  the  soul,  conviction  that  God  lives  in 
men  and  in  man's  work.  Above  all  things  else,  it 
means  religion  made  coincident  with  life.  "The 
natural  and  real  ordinance  of  religion,"  said  Theo- 
dore Parker,  "is  in  general  a  manly  life.  .  .  . 
Religion  is  the  sacrament  of  religion;  itself  its 
ordinance.  Piety  and  goodness  are  its  substance, 
and  all  normal  life  its  form.  .  .  .  My  religion 
is  not  one  thing,  and  my  life  another ;  the  two  are 
one.  .  .  .  Care  for  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men, 
that  is  the  real  sacrament  and  ordinance  of  re- 
ligion for  society,  the  Church  and  State."^ 


^  See  his  Sermons  of  Religion,  centenary  edition,  page  22. 


CHAPTEE  VI 
THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY 


"Whereas  in  the  time  of  Jesus,  and  in  the  ages  which 
grew  darker  and  darker  after  his  death  until  the  dark- 
ness, after  a  brief,  false  dawn  in  the  Reformation,  cul- 
minated in  the  commercial  night  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, it  was  believed  that  you  could  not  make  men  good 
by  Act  of  Parliament,  we  now  know  that  you  cannot 
make  them  good  in  any  other  way.  .  .  .  Being  mem- 
bers one  of  another  means  .  .  .  universal  suffrage  and 
equal  incomes  and  all  sorts  of  modern  political  measures. 
Even  in  Syria  in  the  time  of  Jesus  his  teachings  could 
not  possibly  have  been  realized  by  a  series  of  independent 
explosions  of  personal  righteousness  on  the  part  of  sep- 
arate units  of  the  population.  .  .  .  Christianity,  good 
or  bad,  right  or  wrong,  must  perforce  be  left  out  of  the 
question  in  human  affairs  until  it  is  made  practically 
applicable  to  them  by  complicated  political  devices. 
.  .  .  Personal  righteousness  and  the  view  that  you  can- 
not make  people  moral  by  Act  of  Parliament,  is,  in  fact, 
the  favorite  defensive  resort  of  the  people  who,  con- 
sciously of  subconsciously,  are  quite  determined  not  to 
have  their  property  meddled  with  by  Jesus  or  any  other 
reformer." 

Bernard  Shaw^,  Preface  to 

Androcles  and  the  Lion 


CHAPTER  VI 
THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY 


A  second  phase  of  the  spiritual  change  which 
follows  upon  what  we  have  called  the  new  human- 
istic interpretation  of  religion,  is  the  substitution 
of  sociology  for  theology,  of  a  program  of  social 
life  for  a  system  of  theological  dogma.  The  con- 
summation of  this  process  marks  the  end  of  a  long 
era  characterized  by  three  distinct  periods  of  devel- 
opment. 

First  comes,  through  more  than  two  centuries 
of  time,  that  organization  along  theological  lines 
of  Protestant  orthodoxy,  which  stands  as  the  first 
fruits  of  the  Reformation.  It  is  one  of  the  supreme 
tragedies  of  history,  as  we  have  already  seen,  that 
this  vast  release  of  energy  in  the  religious  world 
took  a  course  which  in  the  end  moved  not  forward 
into  the  light  of  the  new  day,  but  backward  into 
the  night  which  preceded  the  dawn  of  the  Renais- 
sance. The  Reformation,  to  be  sure,  apprehended 
the  spiritual  autonomy  of  man,  freed  him  from  the 
over-lordship  of  the  Roman  Church,  and  boldly 
made  him  the  agent  of  his  own  redemption;  and 
thereby   set   in   motion   a  tidal   wave  of  change 

155 


156  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE    OLD 

which  was  destined  to  sweep  to  the  farthest  reaches 
of  social  life.  But  what  should  have  followed  from 
the  great  deliverance  in  Christendom  itself,  never 
came.  Alarmed  at  the  awful  logic  of  its  own  thesis, 
the  fateful  consequences  of  its  own  action.  Protes- 
tantism swung  back  upon  itself,  raised  up  the  Bible 
in  place  of  the  Church,  put  creeds  and  confessions 
in  place  of  papal  bulls  and  synodal  decrees,  modi- 
fied the  sacraments  for  its  own  uses,  and  in  gen- 
eral went  as  far  back  to  medieval  Christianity  as 
it  was  able  to  go  without  actually  losing  its 
identity. 

When  the  reform  movement  had  run  its  course 
and  the  churches  were  full-formed,  the  distinctive 
mark  of  Protestanism  was  seen  to  be  its  emphasis 
upon  theology,  as  contrasted  with  the  Catholic  em- 
phasis upon  ecclesiasticism.  With  the  one,  the 
central  thing  was  the  creed;  with  the  other,  the 
church.  In  form  at  least,  the  Protestant  sects 
dignified  the  single  man,  the  individual  soul,  to 
an  extent  altogether  unknown  to  the  Roman  hier- 
archy. Responsibility  for  salvation  was  now  upon 
each  one,  and  not  upon  the  church  as  a  vicarious 
instrument  of  heaven.  If  a  man  desired  to  be 
saved,  he  must  save  himself — not  in  the  sense,  of 
course,  that  he  could  dispense  with  the  atonement 
of  Jesus  Christ,  but  in  the  sense  that,  by  his  own 
acceptance,  must  the  grace  of  this  atonement  be 
received  into  his  life.  He  must  have  his  own  expe- 
rience of  grace,  initiate  his  own  act  of  faith.  The 
mediation  not  of  any  church  but  of  his  own  soui 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  157 

with  God,  must  accomplish  his  redemption.  But 
when  it  came  to  defining  this  mediation,  the  Prot- 
estants were  at  one  with  the  Catholics  in  present- 
ing a  process  that  was  external  and  formal.  Faith 
was  not  now,  as  might  be  supposed,  the  free  adven- 
ture of  a  man  with  his  own  soul.  If  no  longer  a 
matter  of  sacraments  and  priestly  offices,  it  most 
certainly  was  a  matter  of  creeds.  Exactly  as  in 
the  medieval  days,  in  other  words,  religious  experi- 
ence was  not  produced  within  but  prescribed 
without.  Here  were  elaborate  doctrines  about 
God,  Jesus  Christ,  the  Holy  Ghost,  sin  and  pun- 
ishment, atonement  and  salvation,  the  communion 
of  saints,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  the  last  judg- 
ment— all  revealed,  of  course,  in  the  Bible,  and 
formulated  into  articles  of  faith  by  holy  men 
acting  under  divine  guidance.  All  of  these,  now, 
must  be  believed,  without  question  or  reservation, 
as  the  "open  sesame"  to  God! 

What  had  happened,  of  course,  was  that  the 
reformers,  in  their  quest  for  the  pure  and  unadul- 
terated gospel  of  the  Nazarene,  had  gotten  no  fur- 
ther back  than  the  writings  of  St.  Paul.  Calvin 
did  over  again  the  work  of  Augustine  in  rearing 
out  of  the  raw  material  of  the  Pauline  epistles  a 
vast  structure  of  cosmology,  anthropology,  history 
and  philosophical  speculation,  and  calling  it  Chris- 
tianity. In  Catholicism  this  theology  never  gained 
ascendency  over  the  rites  and  offices  of  the  church. 
In  Protestantism,  however,  it  became  the  central 
phenomenon  of  the  religious  life.     If  a  man  be- 


158  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

lieved,  he  had  done  all  and  was  therefore  saved. 
If  he  did  not  believe,  he  had  done  nothing,  or  worse 
than  nothing,  and  was  therefore  lost.  It  seems 
amazing,  with  our  knowledge  today  of  the  ethical 
and  social  character  of  the  teachings  of  Jesus,  and 
of  the  absence  therefrom  of  all  arbitrary  elements 
of  theological  belief,  that  such  perversion  of  his 
spirit  could  be  possible.  This  substitution  of 
dogmas  for  a  way  of  life,  however,  had  its  begin- 
ning among  the  men  who  lived  within  a  generation 
of  the  Master's  death,  in  a  perfectly  natural  desire 
to  exalt  his  personality  and  perpetuate  his  work, 
and  if  it  was  easy  for  those  who  knew  the  Nazarene 
thus  to  be  misled,  how  much  easier  for  those  who 
lived  centuries  later,  in  an  age  still  undelivered 
from  traditional  habits  of  mind!  The  result  at 
any  rate  was  full-fledged  identification  of  religion 
with  theology.  Hence  our  description  of  this  first 
span  of  spiritual  development  in  modern  times,  as 
the  theological  period ! 

II 

The  second  period,  which  is  characterized  by  the 
advent  of  liberalism  as  a  movement  of  rebellion 
against  the  dogmatic  rigors  of  orthodoxy,  began 
vaguely  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  reached  its 
culmination  in  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. Sometimes  the  movement  embodied  itself  in 
separatist  groups  which  were  unrecognized,  save 
for  purposes  of  denunciation  and  persecution,  by 
any  authentic  Christian  power.    More  often,  espe- 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  159 

daily  as  time  went  on  and  independent  thought 
came  to  be  regarded  as  not  wholly  a  disreputable 
thing,  the  liberal  tendency  worked  inside  the 
church  and  established  definite  centers  of  progres- 
sive influence.  From  the  beginning  it  represented 
the  interplay  of  a  great  variety  of  influences.  On 
the  one  hand,  as  in  Deism  and  later  Rationalism, 
it  was  the  protest  of  the  human  reason  against  the 
manifest  absurdities  and  incongruities  of  Christian 
theology.  On  the  other  hand,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Friends  and  all  mystic  groups,  it  was  the  souFs 
assertion  of  the  validity  of  its  own  "inner  light," 
as  opposed  to  all  outward  authorities  whatsoever. 
Again,  as  with  the  Universalists,  it  was  a  revolt 
of  the  conscience  against  the  essential  immorality 
of  a  theology  which  began  with  total  depravity 
and  ended  with  eternal  punishment.  Frequently, 
from  the  early  days  of  Methodism  to  these  latest 
days  of  liberal  evangelism,  it  has  been  a  veritable 
passion  to  strip  away  the  theological  and  ecclesias- 
tical encumbrances  of  the  gospel,  and  get  "back  to 
Christ.'' 

At  heart,  however,  as  seen  in  such  early  antici- 
pations as  the  heretical  sects  of  the  Reformation, 
and  in  such  extreme  and  therefore  typical  develop- 
ments as  Unitarianism,  Ethical  Culture  and  free 
religions  generally,  this  liberal  movement  is  prop- 
erly to  be  understood  as  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
an  attempt  to  recover  and  restore  what  was  lost 
in  the  later  developments  of  the  Reformation. 
"One  sublime  idea  has  taken  strong  hold  of  my 


160  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

mind,"  wrote  Dr.  Channing,  the  veritable  incarna- 
tion of  the  liberal  spirit  in  religion.  ^^It  is  the 
greatness  of  the  soul,  its  divinity,  its  union  with 
God."^  Implicit  in  the  Renaissance,  and  all  that 
sprang  from  its  fecund  womb,  was  this  discovery 
and  sublimation  of  man  "as  a  free  being  created 
to  form  himself,  and  to  decide  his  own  destiny."^ 
It  is  this  conviction,  as  we  have  seen,  which  liber- 
ated man's  intellect,  and  therewith  made  possible 
the  wonders  of  modern  science  and  philosophy, 
exploration  and  invention,  art,  literature  and  juris- 
prudence. It  is  this  which  freed  man's  will,  and 
revealed  to  him  at  once  his  responsibility  and 
capacity  for  creative  achievement.  It  is  this  which 
taught  man  of  his  dignity  and  rights,  and  stirred 
him  to  those  great  battles  for  democracy  which 
have  shaken  the  world.  What  was  done  in  these 
other  fields,  should  have  been  done  in  religion  also ; 
church  and  creed  alike  should  have  been  dethroned 
in  favor  of  the  soul.  What  the  Reformation  failed 
to  do,  however,  liberalism  has  achieved  by  bringing 
back  into  Christianity  the  forces  of  enlightenment 
and  deliverance  at  large  in  the  outer  world,  and 
thus  opening  a  distinctive  period  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  modern  religious  consciousness.  Three 
things  are  to  be  noted  as  characteristic  of  the  lib- 
eral attitude  in  religion. 

First  of  all,  is  confidence  in  man,  and  an  un- 
shakable belief  in  his  prerogative  of  freedom.     "I 


1  See    The   Life    of    William   Ellery    Channing,    by    William    Henry 
Channing,  page  445. 

2  William    Ellery    Channing,    in    "The    Elevation    of    the    Laboring 
Classes,"  see  Works,  page  48. 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  161 

do  and  I  must  reverence  human  nature/'  says 
Channing;^  ^^nothing  will  disturb  my  faith  in  its 
godlike  powers  and  tendencies.  I  bless  it  for  its 
kind  affections,  for  its  strong  and  tender  love.  I 
honor  it  for  its  struggles  against  oppression,  its 
achievements  in  science  and  art,  its  examples  of 
heroic  and  saintly  virtue.''  Here  is  liberalism  in 
its  best  estate!  It  places  man  at  the  center  of 
things;  ^^the  highest  dwells  with  him  .  .  .  the 
sources  of  nature  are  his  own."^  It  trusts  man  in 
the  unrestrained  activity  of  his  powers;  "within 
(him)  is  the  soul  of  the  whole,  the  universal 
beauty,  the  eternal  One."^  It  demands  for  men 
free  opportunity  for  development,  and  challenges 
him,  "encompassed  by  a  thousand  warring  forces, 
to  contend  with  all,  and  perfect  himself  by  the 
conflict."^  It  is  this  confidence  in  man  which  has 
made  liberalism  the  friend  of  science  and  art,  and 
the  champion  of  all  cultural  and  humanitarian 
movements  of  reform.  Interested  in  man  for  his 
own  sake,  it  has  sought  to  foster  whatever  would 
ennoble  his  life  and  enlarge  his  spirit.  Its  con- 
cerns, in  other  words,  have  been  preeminently 
human  concerns;  and  its  work,  therefore,  one  of 
the  great  humanizing  influences  of  modern  history. 
It  is  obvious  that  liberalism  finds  validity  for 
its  attitude  toward  human  nature  in  its  recogni- 
tion of  the  moral  sentiment  as  of  central  im- 
portance in  the  life  of  man.     This  leads  to  the 


*  See  his  sermon,  "  Likeness  to  God,"  in  WorJcs^  page  299. 
'  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  in  his  essay.  The  Over-Soul. 
•See  Channing,  as  above. 


162  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

second  of  the  three  factors  notably  characteristic 
of  liberal  religion — namely,  its  substitution  of  the 
ethical  point  of  view  for  the  ecclesiastical  and 
theological.  What  is  important  in  religious  expe- 
rience, says  the  liberal,  is  not  rites  and  ceremonies 
as  talismans  of  salvation,  not  creeds  and  covenants 
as  media  of  grace,  but  those  fundamental  virtues 
of  the  inner  life  which  distinguish  if  not  the  be- 
liever from  the  infidel,  at  least  the  good  man  from 
the  bad.  The  vital  thing,  in  other  words,  as  the 
evidence  of  salvation,  is  not  faith  but  character; 
not  acceptance  of  dogmas,  but  fulfillment  of  the 
moral  law;  not  conformity  to  theological  tenets, 
but  glad  and  free  allegiance  to  the  best  ideals  of 
the  soul.  The  liberal  is  distinguished  by  nothing 
more  precisely  than  by  his  utter  indifference  to 
what  a  man  believes  or  does  not  believe  about  the 
being  of  God,  the  person  of  Jesus,  the  resurrection 
of  the  body,  or  the  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures. 
Loyal  himself  to  the  most  rigorous  standards  of 
the  truth,  clear  in  his  own  mind  as  to  what  he 
thinks  upon  these  questions  of  theological  dispu- 
tation, eager  to  state  his  reasons  for  his  belief  and 
to  commend  these  reasons  to  other  minds,  he  yet 
respects  in  others  that  right  of  independent  judg- 
ment which  he  conserves  for  himself,  and  finds  not 
in  what  a  man  thinks  but  in  how  he  lives  the  ultima 
ratio  of  the  soul.  Purity  in  the  inner  life,  justice 
and  generosity  in  human  relations,  integrity  of 
mind,  quick  sympathy  of  heart,  sincerity  of  con- 
viction and  purpose,  and,  above  all,  a  love  that 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  163 

knows  no  bounds  and  fears  no  sacrifice — ^this  is 
the  true  test  of  religion.  Liberalism,  in  the  last 
analysis,  is  interested  in  virtue — in  that  moral 
beauty  which  is  the  sign  of  health  in  human  nature. 
Finally,  as  a  consequence  of  this  emphasis  upon 
the  moral  sentiment  and  its  essential  worth  in 
human  nature,  liberalism  is  notably  characterized 
by  an  acceptance  of  education  as  the  method  of 
individual  salvation.  Implicit  in  the  whole  ortho- 
dox concept  of  religion  is  a  distrust  of  human 
nature,  a  belief  that  it  is  corrupt  and  must  be 
changed.  To  accomplish  this  change  was  the  pur- 
pose of  Christ  in  his  great  act  of  the  atonement; 
and  all  the  devices  of  the  church,  whether  they  be 
incorporated  in  sacraments  or  creeds,  are  aimed 
at  conveying  the  efficacy  of  this  sacrifice  to  men. 
Now  with  this  idea,  the  liberal  breaks  utterly! 
Eeverencing  human  nature  as  in  essence,  at  least, 
divine,  he  questions  the  whole  system  of  salvation 
as  it  has  been  presented  in  the  past  by  Catholic 
and  Protestant  alike.  The  problem  of  religion, 
from  the  liberal  standpoint,  is  not  that  of  remaking 
human  nature  at  all,  but  of  reordering  it.  The 
elements  of  good  are  all  present  in  the  soul  just 
as  it  is.  The  native  forces  of  life  are  themselves 
good,  if  only  they  be  delivered  from  the  entangle- 
ment of  perversions  and  repressions  which  are  the 
circumstance  of  birth.  Men  need  salvation,  as 
they  have  always  needed  it,  but  salvation  not  from 
the  past  but  from  the  future.  They  need  to  be 
saved  not  in  the  sense  that  they  are  already  lost, 


164  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE   OLD 

but  in  the  sense  that  they  may  at  any  time  be  lost 
through  ignorance,  misunderstanding,  weakness, 
or  neglect.  To  be  lost  is  to  be  imperfect,  incom- 
plete; to  have  powers  wasted  by  inward  conflict 
and  disorder ;  to  fall  short  of  the  full  development 
of  the  possibilities  of  virtue  that  are  within  us. 
To  be  saved,  on  the  other  hand,  is  to  fulfill  our 
being,  to  order  and  release  our  powers  for  efficient 
action.  To  be  >saved  is  to  be  moral  by  being 
normal.  Salvation  of  this  type  requires  self-mas- 
tery; and  self-mastery,  in  turn,  requires  knowl- 
edge— knowledge  of  oneself,  of  the  world,  and  of 
the  experience  of  men.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
liberalism  has  always  emphasized  education  as  the 
one  sure  means  of  "saving''  humankind. 

The  general  note  of  such  emphases  as  these,  is 
undoubtedly  that  of  humanism;  in  this  sense  the 
liberal  movement  in  religion  is  a  true  child  of  the 
Eenaissance  and  early  Reformation.  As  com- 
pared, however,  with  the  Protestant  orthodoxy 
into  which  it  broke  so  rudely  with  its  heresies,  this 
liberalism  is  more  particularly  an  ethical  phenom- 
enon. It  was  not  content  merely  to  attack  the  con- 
tent of  Christian  theology  from  the  standpoint  of 
new  scientific  and  historical  researches.  It  was 
not  interested  in  revising  creeds  to  match  the 
claims  presented  by  geology,  biology,  archeology, 
and  the  higher  criticism  of  the  Bible.  What  it 
did  was  to  make  a  complete  sweep  of  the  theo- 
logical method,  and  substitute  therefor  the  moral 
sentiment.     Human  nature  is  divine,  because  it 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  165 

has  capacity  for  virtue!  Character  is  salvation, 
because  it  is  the  evidence  of  virtue !  Moral  train- 
ing  is  the  method  of  salvation,  because  it  is  the 
cultivation  of  virtue!  In  these  propositions,  the 
liberal  movement  put  moral  idealism  definitely  to 
the  forefront  of  the  religious  life.  It  identified 
religion  absolutely  with  ethics.  Wherefore  may 
this  second  span  of  spiritual  development  in 
modern  times  be  not  inaccurately  described  as  the 
ethical  period! 

Ill 

That  liberalism  was  a  prodigious  advance  over 
everything  that  had  preceded  it  goes  without 
saying.  The  movement  marked  the  definite  en- 
trance into  the  religious  field  of  those  emancipat- 
ing humanistic  influences  which  were  elsewhere 
remaking  modern  society;  and  the  beginning, 
therefore,  of  that  new  basis  of  religion  which  is 
even  now  still  in  process  of  being  laid.  In  its 
nineteenth  century  forms,  however,  it  fell  short  of 
the  full  implications  of  its  message  by  reason  of 
its  adherence,  as  was  perhaps  inevitable  at  the 
time,  to  that  individualistic  interpretation  of  spir- 
itual experience  which  from  the  beginning  was  so 
characteristic  of  Protestant  thought.  Its  dis- 
covery of  the  moral  sentiment  and  its  place  in 
human  nature,  called  for  a  complete  reordering  of 
human  nature.  Its  substitution  of  character  for 
faith  in  the  process  of  salvation,  demanded  a  fresh 
study  of  the  whole  problem  of  the  soul  and  its 


166  NEW  CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

redemption.  This  liberalism  did  not  give.  On  the 
contrary,  it  accepted  in  toto  the  classic  philosophy 
of  the  churches,  both  Catholic  and  Protestant,  and 
asked  only  that  it  be  restated  in  terms  ethical  in- 
stead of  theological. 

The  individualistic  character  of  this  philosophy 
is  familiar,  as  it  has  long  been  prevalent.  For 
centuries,  and  especially  since  the  Renaissance, 
man  has  been  regarded  strictly  as  an  individual — 
i.  e.^  in  isolated  personality,  having  no  essential 
connection  with  any  other  individual,  nor  with  the 
natural  or  social  environment  of  the  world  in  which 
he  lives.  Man  has  been  conceived,  that  is,  as 
though  he  were  utterly  and  forever  alone,  uninflu- 
encing  and  uninfluenced  by  anything  else  in  all  the 
universe.  Even  the  several  parts  which  together 
make  up  his  individuality,  organic  and  functional, 
have  been  torn  asunder  as  though  they  were  sepa- 
rate and  disconnected  units,  and  surveyed  not  in 
relation  to  one  another  or  the  whole,  but  apart  by 
themselves.  Thus  physiology  has  studied  the  indi- 
vidual man  as  a  physical  body;  psychology,  as  a 
soul,  or  psyche;  logic,  as  a  mind;  metaphysics,  as 
an  incarnate  absolute.  Ethics  has  discussed  the 
right  conduct  of  the  individual;  aesthetics,  his 
instincts  and  aptitudes  for  beauty;  political 
economy,  that  amazing  animal  ^^the  economic 
man."  The  whole  purpose  of  inquiry  in  the  past, 
says  Francis  6.  Peabody,^  seems  to  have  been  to 


*  See  his  The  Approach  to  the  Social  Question,  page  9. 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  167 

detach  the  person  from  the  mass,  ^^as  though  he 
occupied  a  little  universe  of  his  own.'' 

What  this  individualistic  habit  of  thought  has 
meant  in  religion,  is  clearly  shown  in  the  whole 
content  of  Christian  orthodoxy.  In  medieval  but 
more  especially  in  Protestant  theology,  the  single 
man  has  been  regarded  as  a  separate  spiritual 
entity,  confronted  with  a  problem  of  salvation 
which  involves  himself  alone.  Whether  he  be 
white  or  black,  rich  or  poor,  educated  or  ignorant, 
born  of  pure  or  tainted  blood,  the  denizen  of  a 
palace  or  a  slum  or  the  open  countryside,  makes 
no  essential  difference.  As  regards  religion  he  is 
simply  a  soul,  without  color,  race,  mental  condi- 
tion, or  social  status.  He  is  like  every  other  soul 
in  the  fact  that  he  exists  in  a  state  of  sin,  and  is 
therefore  in  desperate  need  of  salvation.  But  he 
is  apart  from  every  other  soul  in  the  fact  that  there 
is  no  dependence,  nor  even  connection,  between 
souls.  Men  exist,  that  is,  not  like  the  cells  of  a 
body,  but  rather  like  grains  of  sand,  the  particles 
of  an  aggregate.  Like  God  himself,  they  have  no 
relations,  save  as  each  is  related  to  God.  It  is  this 
relationship,  with  all  of  its  implications  of  duty 
and  destiny,  and  not  any  relationship  between  one 
another  as  members  together  of  the  human  family, 
which  constitutes,  as  we  have  seen,  the  meaning  of 
religion.  A  man's  business,  spiritually  speaking, 
is  to  "get  right  with  God,"  to  quote  the  familiar 
revivalistic  phrase.  The  business  of  the  churches, 
in  turn,  is  to  show  how  this  is  to  be  done.     The 


168  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

crass  indiyidualism  of  the  whole  philosophy  and 
process  is  admirably  summed  up  in  the  classic  cry, 
What  shall  /  do  to  be  saved? 

Now  the  liberal  movement  broke  with  Christian 
orthodoxy  in  many  things,  but  not  in  this !  Liber- 
alism also  is  individualistic.  It  also  sees  the  soul 
in  isolation,  so  far  at  least  as  its  personal  destiny 
is  concerned.  It  also  defines  religion  in  terms  of 
personal  salvation;  salvation  by  character,  to  be 
sure,  and  not  by  faith,  but  the  objective  is  the 
same!  Of  course,  its  humanistic  attitude  toward 
life,  its  interest  in  man  as  a  moral  creature,  its 
whole  understanding  of  religion  in  terms  of  ethics, 
gives  to  liberalism  an  awareness  of  contacts,  one 
man  with  another,  which  is  practically  unknown 
in  orthodoxy.  But  it  is  contacts  which  the  liberal 
sees,  and  not  relationships.  It  is  the  bumping  and 
rubbing  of  one  grain  of  sand  against  another,  and 
not  the  functioning  of  two  interdependent  cells  in 
the  service  of  an  organism  which  includes  them 
both  as  constituent  elements  of  the  one  reality! 
The  individual,  in  other  words,  remains  basic.  If 
these  contacts  have  value,  it  is  only  because  they 
compose  the  raw  material  out  of  which  is  wrought 
the  fibre  of  individual  character.  If  they  have 
meaning,  it  is  only  the  meaning  created  by  the 
souls  who  occasion  and  then  use  them.  All  social 
phenomena— institutions,  laws,  customs,  political 
and  economic  systems — are  fortuitous  and  ephem- 
eral. They  gain  even  an  appearance  of  reality  only 
as  they  reflect  and  record,  and  thus  objectify,  the 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  169 

struggles  of  men  to  gain,  through  their  moral  at- 
tainments, that  right  personal  relationship  with 
God  which  constitutes  the  fulfillment  of  their 
lives.  Liberalism,  therefore,  says  Prof.  Ephraim 
Emerton,^  speaking  more  especially  of  Unitari- 
anism,  "fixes  its  attention  primarily  upon  the  indi- 
vidual. ...  It  has  its  own  lofty  conceptions  of 
the  function  of  the  family,  the  state,  the  church, 
mankind  even,  in  bringing  about  that  development 
which  is  to  it  the  ultimate  goal  of  humanity.  It 
feels  the  force  of  the  reaction  of  all  these  upon  the 
individual  in  fixing  his  aims,  setting  his  limita- 
tions, giving  him  his  opportunities;  but  still  more 
powerfully  it  feels  that  these  larger  entities  have 
meaning  and  value  only  as  they  are  fixed  by  the 
character  of  the  individuals  who  compose  them.'' 
The  practical  consequence  of  this  individualistic 
interpretation  of  life,  is  an  absorption  in  the  prob- 
lem of  personal  salvation  quite  as  intense  on  the 
part  of  the  liberal  as  of  the  orthodox  Protestant. 
That  stress  is  laid  on  character  instead  of  faith, 
on  the  moral  instead  of  the  theological  process, 
does  not  alter  the  fact  that  it  is  personal  salvation 
that  he  is  after.  The  Unitarian,  or  Universalist, 
or  Ethical  Culturist,  exactly  like  the  Methodist  or 
Presbyterian,  cries.  What  shall  /  do  to  be  saved; 
and  while  he  does  not  find  his  answer  in  sacra- 
ments and  creeds,  confessions  and  conversions,  he 
does  find  it  in  the  ancient  law  of  justice,  mercy 
and  good  faith.    This  is  the  explanation  of  the  ex- 


^  See  his  Unitarian  Thought^  page  199. 


0 


170  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

elusive  importance  attached  to  education,  which  is 
essentially  the  retail  method  of  taking  one  indi- 
vidual after  another  in  home  and  school  and 
church,  and  training  each  to  the  knowledge,  love 
and  practice  of  the  right.  The  result  of  such  train- 
ing, if  it  be  successful,  is  character,  and  character 
is  the  condition  of  salvation  or  the  end  of  life 
attained!  This  is  the  explanation,  also,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  of  the  very  quick  and  generous 
interest  of  the  liberal  in  what  we  know  as  "social 
^  problems."  How  frequently  his  religious  activi- 
\  ties  take  the  lovely  altruistic  form  of  philanthropy 
y  and  social  service!  He  seems  characteristically  to 
/I  forget  himself  in  the  love  of  others.  And  so  he 
I  does,  so  far  as  his  own  individual  feelings  are  con- 
cerned; for  man,  delivered  from  theologizing,  is 
as  truly  made  for  love  as  the  stars  for  shining! 
But  this  involves  no  inconsistency,  for  the  phi- 
losophy back  of  his  activities  remains  as  individu- 
alistic as  ever.  The  liberal  is  kindly,  sympathetic, 
serviceable  primarily  because  he  has  learned  to 
believe  that  such  qualities  constitute  character. 
This  is  what  it  means  to  him  to  be  good.  All  the 
while  in  his  altruism  he  has  in  view,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  not  a  far-flung,  impersonal, 
social  end  at  all,  but  a  very  narrow,  intimate  and 
personal  end.  He  is  practicing  his  moral  law, 
flattering  his  sense  of  virtue,  sustaining  his  self- 
respect.  Hence  the  superficiality  of  much  of  the 
social  work  that  is  done  by  our  so-called  "best 
people"!     Hence  also  the  ease  with  which  such 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  171 

work  takes  on  a  patronizing  air,  and  all  too  often 
degenerates  into  the  disgusting  hypocrisies  of 
Pharisaism ! 

It  is  the  doctrine  of  social  work  deliberately  pro- 
fessed by  religious  liberals  which  offers  the  con- 
clusive demonstration  of  the  nullifying  individu- 
alism implicit  in  the  entire  movement.  What  the 
liberal  sees  in  society,  as  we  have  said,  is  a  mere 
aggregate  of  individuals.  Society,  according  to  / 
his  argument,  can  be  saved,  ethically  speaking,  , 
only  as  the  individuals  who  compose  this  aggre-  \ 
gate  are  themselves  saved.  The  problem  of  social  ' 
redemption,  in  other  words,  is  the  old  problem  of 
individual  redemption  writ  large.  What  we  have 
to  do  is  to  concern  ourselves  not  with  reforming 
political  or  economic  conditions,  not  with  altering 
social  arrangements  of  any  kind,  but  simply  and 
solely  with  making  individual  men  and  women  to 
be  morally  what  they  ought  to  be.  To  save  society, 
that  is,  we  must  first  save  men;  and  we  can  save 
men  only  through  the  redemptive  force  of  personal 
character.  Our  social  task  naturally  begins  with 
ourselves,  for  we  contribute  to  and  share  in  social 
salvation  when,  in  the  struggles  and  conflicts  of 
our  inner  lives,  we  come  out  victorious.  But  the 
quickest  road  to  such  victory,  is  service  of  others. 
There  is  a  reciprocal  relationship,  in  other  words, 
in  social  service.  We  save  others  as  we  save  our- 
selves; and  we  save  ourselves  as  we  save  others. 
But  this  does  not  alter  in  any  way  the  undeviating 
individualistic  viewpoint  of  the  whole.     Even  in 


172  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

the  noblest  struggles  for  mankind,  there  is  present 
always  the  element  of  personal  reward.  The 
process  of  service,  sacrifice  and  death  for  others' 
sakes  is,  in  the  last  analysis,  nothing  but  the  process 
of  our  own  salvation.  Naively,  almost  accidentally, 
this  truth  comes  out  in  the  familiar  couplet  of 
John  Greenleaf  Whittier,  a  favorite  motto  of  lib- 
eral Christianity — 

"Heaven's  gate  is  closed  to  him  who  comes  alone ; 
Save  thou  a  soul  and  it  shall  save  thine  own  J' 

IV 

But  is  individualism  thus  wrong,  as  a  spiritual 
motive,  if  it  can  rise  to  such  self-forgetting  heights 
as  this? 

Not  wrong,  perhaps;  but  certainly  inadequate! 
There  is  something  far  more  involved  here  than 
mere  individualism.  This  reciprocal  relationship 
of  service  confounds  the  very  doctrine  which  it  pre- 
tends to  illustrate  and  practice.  There  are  sugges- 
tions here  of  the  teachings  of  the  Hebrew  prophets. 
There  is  an  irresistible  reminder  of  Jesus's  im- 
mortal declaration,  "He  that  findeth  his  life  shall 
lose  it,  and  he  that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake  shall 
find  it."  Paul  is  brought  immediately  into  memory 
with  his  noble  dictum  that  "no  man  liveth  unto 
himself."  Man  is  more  than  an  individual  if,  by 
"individual,"  we  mean  a  separate,  isolated  soul. 
However  it  may  be  theologically,  from  the  moral 
Tiewpoint,    at    least,    man's    life    is    inextricably 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  173 

interwoven  with  his  fellows.  He  joins  not  merely; 
contacts  with  them,  but  relationships.  Through 
these  relationships,  which  are  unescapable,  he 
forms  an  organism  which  is  society,  itself  a  body 
with  many  members.  Man  is  a  social  creature, 
his  life  is  a  social  phenomenon.  His  problem  of 
salvation  leaps  the  bounds  of  personality,  and 
becomes  at  one  with  the  problem  of  the  race. 

It  is  this  affirmation  of  solidarity  as  contrasted 
with  individuality,  which  constitutes  the  new 
spiritual  truth  of  this  age,  and  marks  the  third 
or  sociological  period  in  the  history  of  the 
religious  development  of  modern  times.  What 
has  been  the  inspiration  of  all  prophets  and 
apostles  from  Amos  and  Hosea  to  Wesley,  Parker 
and  Walter  Rauschenbusch,  is  now  become  the 
science,  so  to  speak,  of  man.  Even  as  science,  it  is 
not  new.  Aristotle  saw  the  truth  when  he  laid 
down  in  his  Politics  ^  the  proposition  that  "man  is 
by  nature  a  social  animal.  The  individual,  when 
isolated,  is  not  self-sufficing,  and  therefore  is  like 
a  part  in  relation  to  the  whole.  He  who  lives  not 
in  society,  who  has  no  need  because  he  is  sufficient 
for  himself,  must  be  either  a  beast  or  a  god.''  But 
we  have  the  material  to  handle  this  problem  of 
society  today,  as  Darwin  in  his  day  had  the  material 
to  handle  the  problem  of  biological  evolution, 
known  so  many  centuries  before  to  Heraclitus  and 
the  later  Greek  philosophers.    Our  thought,  there- 

^Book  I,  chapter  2, 


174  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR    OLD 

fore,  is  not  a  surmise  nor  yet  an  inspiration.     It  is 
a  demonstration. 

At  bottom  is  the  fundamental  proposition  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  individual  per  se.  "A 
separate  individual/'  says  a  modern  scientist,  "is 
an  abstraction  and  not  known  to  experience."  ^ 
For  the  individual  lives  at  all  only  in  his  relations. 
An  individual  is  identifiable  as  an  individual  only 
by  virtue  of  certain  personal  qualities  which  make 
him  a  member  of  a  larger  or  smaller  social  group. 
Thus  it  is  not  enough  to  know  that  John  Smith  is 
John  Smith.  If  we  would  distinguish  this  John 
Smith  from  other  John  Smiths,  and  from  myriads 
of  men  who  swarm  the  world — if  we  would  know 
him,  that  is,  in  his  own  separate  individuality  as  a 
person — we  must  know  his  residence,  his  business, 
his  family,  his  nationality  and  race,  the  one  hundred 
and  one  ties  which  bind  him  to  society,  and  which 
together  make  up  the  essence  of  his  individual 
existence.  Cut  off  a  man  from  all  political, 
economic  and  social  relations,  and  he  is  no  longer  a 
man,  but  an  impersonal  abstraction,  a  mere  "ego'' 
signifying  nothing  that  is  human.  But  unite  him 
with  his  fellows — make  him  a  husband,  a  father,  a 
merchant,  a  citizen,  an  American — and  instantly  he 
becomes  an  individual.  Indeed,  the  more  numerous 
his  contacts,  the  more  of  an  individual  he  is.  The 
abundant  life  is  the  distinctive  life!  Theodore 
Roosevelt  was  the  outstanding  personality  of  his 
generation  for  no  other  reason  than  that  he  touched 


*  Professor  C.  H.  Cooley,  in  Human  Nature  and  the  Social  Order, 
page  1. 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  175 

life  at  more  points,  identified  himself  with  a  larger 
number  of  human  interests,  than  any  other  of  his 
contemporaries.  Relations,  therefore,  are  what 
constitute  the  man.  It  is  our  membership  in  the 
one  body  that  makes  us  what  we  are. 

The  social  nature  of  individuality  has  its  begin- 
ning with  heredity.  We  are  inextricably  bound  to 
the  forbears  from  whose  loins  we  have  sprung,  and 
again  to  the  descendants  who  spring  in  turn  from 
us.  Our  natures  are  a  recapitulation  of  the  mil- 
lions who  have  preceded  us ;  and  this  recapitulation 
we  gather  up,  modified  by  our  use  of  it,  and  pass  on 
to  the  millions  who  come  after.  Past,  present  and 
future,  in  other  words,  constitute  a  single  flow,  like 
the  current  of  a  river,  in  which  each  drop  takes  the 
color  and  direction  of  the  whole.  A  biologic  neces- 
sity is  upon  us  which  determines  within  narrow 
bounds  the  physical  and  psychological  range  of  our 
experience.  The  white  man  is  not  the  black  man, 
nor  the  Englishman  the  Chinaman,  nor  the  moron 
the  intellectual.  Each  belongs  by  birth  and  in- 
heritance to  a  social  group,  into  which  the  other 
cannot  enter  even  in  imagination.  And  it  is 
inherent  qualities  of  body,  mind  and  spirit  which 
belong  to  this  group  and  to  no  other,  which  give  to 
each  the  distinctive  elements  of  his  being. 

More  important,  however,  than  heredity  as  an 
aspect  of  sociality,  is  environment.  Heredity  was 
displaced  as  the  primal  factor  of  existence  when 
the  science  of  evolution  came  to  the  fore  and  demon- 
strated that  the  substance  of  life  was  not  something 


176  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

permanently  given,  but  something  constantly  under- 
going change  from  one  form  to  another.  Life  con- 
tinues, of  course,  only  as  it  is  passed  on  by  the 
process  of  inheritance.  But  what  is  thus  trans- 
mitted is  not  a  constant  but  an  ever-changing 
reality;  and  the  fundamental  cause,  or  at  least 
control,  of  this  process  of  change,  is  the  influence  of 
environment.  What  life  is,  or  how  it  began,  we  do 
not  know.  We  are  conscious  only  of  that  creative 
force  which  has  been  pushing  itself  forward  from  the 
beginning,  and  making  the  path  which  we  know  as 
evolution.  But  this  force  has  not  been  working  in  a 
vacuum.  Always  it  has  been  enmeshed  in  an  en- 
vironment which  has  determined  all  that  it  has  done. 
Each  separate  organism,  or  embodiment  of  life,  in 
other  words,  is  at  every  moment  inextricably  tied  up 
with  what  is  about  it — first,  its  natural  habitat,  and 
secondly,  the  other  organisms  with  which  it  shares 
this  habitat.  Life  is  only  a  process  of  adjustment 
between  organism  and  environment — ^^the  continu- 
ous adjustment  of  internal  relations  and  external 
relations,"  to  quote  the  familiar  definition  of 
Herbert  Spencer/  Changes  in  the  environment  are 
followed  by  inevitable  changes  in  the  organism,  as  a 
necessary  condition  of  its  successful  adjustment  to 
the  environment,  and  therefore  of  survival.  It  is 
this,  and  not  the  extravagant  hypotheses  of  creation, 
which  explains  the  innumerably  various  forms  of 
life  upon  our  planet.  Even  the  basic  and  appar- 
ently fixed  characters  of  race  and  genus,  passed  on 


»  See  his  Principles  of  Biology,  Volume  I,  page  99. 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  177 

by  inheritance  through  unnumbered  generations, 
have  all  had  their  origin  in  this  experience  of 
adjustment,  and  have  become  stabilized  only  as  a 
result  of  relationship  with  a  stabilized  environment. 
Relationship  is  again  our  central  fact.  The  indi- 
vidual lives  not  in  himself  but  in  the  whole. 

Now  what  is  true  of  organisms  in  general  is  true 
of  man  in  particular.  We  also  are  creatures  of 
environment.  The  abiding  racial,  national  and 
class  distinctions  of  this  world  are  not  to  be 
accounted  for  on  the  basis  of  different  inward 
qualities  of  human  nature,  but  primarily  on  the 
basis  of  different  outward  conditions  of  social  life. 
What  is  commonly  attributed  to  heredity  is  only 
the  transmission  of  early  consequences  of  environ- 
mental influence.  We  are  molded  permanently  in 
speech,  in  manners,  in  habits,  in  abilities,  in  morals, 
in  ideals,  by  the  external  circumstances  which  wrap 
us  round,  as  the  head  of  a  Flathead  Indian  is  flat- 
tened by  the  stone  which  is  bound  from  infancy  to 
the  top  of  his  plastic  skull,  or  the  feet  of  the  Chinese 
women  are  distorted  by  the  unyielding  bandages  in 
which  they  are  tightly  wrapped.  The  great  ma- 
jority of  men  and  women  are  bound  in  the  fetters  of 
material  conditions  which  make  impossible  a 
healthy  body,  an  active  mind,  or  a  pure  soul. 
Climate,  food,  clothing,  political  rule,  economic 
status,  hours  and  conditions  of  labor,  all  have  their 
determining  influence  on  the  character  and  moral 
destiny  of  the  individual.  How  many  of  us  do  not 
know  that  we  are  what  we  are  today  because  we 


178  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOE    OLD 

were  born  in  the  nineteenth  century,  in  the  United 
States  of  America,  in  material  comfort  and  not  in 
poverty,  were  given  care  and  education  and  not 
neglect,  were  guarded  by  economic  security  from 
exhausting  labor,  unwholesome  living  conditions, 
vicious  enticements,  and  acquaintance  with  im- 
moral standards — that  we  are  what  we  are,  in  short, 
because  of  the  political,  industrial  and  social 
environment  in  the  midst  of  which  we  have  always 
lived!  Change  this  environment  in  any  decisive 
particular !  Make  us  a  Eoman  slave,  a  feudal  serf, 
a  Kussian  peasant,  a  slum  denizen  of  East-end 
London,  a  sweat-shop  worker  in  East-side  New 
York,  a  "hunkie''  steel- worker  in  the  blast-furnaces 
of  Pittsburgh,  a  negro  plantation  hand  in  Alabama ! 
And  what  would  there  be  left  of  the  refinement, 
grace  and  straight-out  moral  worth  which  we  flatter 
ourselves  are  basic  elements  in  our  native  indi- 
viduality? It  is  environment  which  is  the  secret 
of  being  and  becoming.  It  is  social  conditions 
which  make  us  in  the  end  what  we  really  are,  even 
as  it  is  the  tides  which  make  sweet  or  noisome  the 
shores  of  the  sea.  "How  little  does  heredity  count 
as  compared  with  conditions,"  says  Henry  George.^ 
"Change  Lady  Vere  de  Vere  in  her  cradle  with  an 
infant  in  the  slums,  and  not  all  the  blood  of  a  hun- 
dred earls  will  give  you  the  refined  and  cultured 
woman." 

If  demonstration  of  this  thesis  were  needed,  we 
have  it  today  in  the  multiplying  complexities  of 


*  See  his  Progress  and  Poverty,  page  468. 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  179 

modern  industrial  society,  and  the  uses  to  which 
they  are  put  in  reducing  the  single  man  to  impo- 
tence and  misery.  In  the  old  days,  especially  in 
this  country,  when  there  was  a  frontier  on  the  out- 
skirts of  civilization,  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to 
live  his  own  life,  fashion  his  own  environment,  and 
thus  fulfill  the  promise  of  his  individuality.  If 
society  pressed  too  closely  upon  him,  and  denied 
him  reasonable  opportunity  for  free  expression  of 
personality,  the  door  of  escape  was  always  open. 
He  could  set  sail  across  the  seas,  or  march  sturdily 
across  the  border,  out  into  the  wilderness  of  new 
lands.  But  today  the  frontier  is  gone.  It  disap- 
peared generations  ago  in  Europe,  and  is  now  in 
process  of  disappearing  in  America.  Everywhere 
society  has  expanded,  until  men  live  together, 
whether  they  will  or  no.  At  the  same  time  has 
there  developed  within  society,  that  stupendous 
mechanism  of  capitalistic  industry  which  has 
mobilized  the  race  to  a  social  dependency  and 
discipline  more  terrible  in  peace  than  the  military 
machine  effects  in  war.  The  economic  organization 
of  the  modern  world  is  one  of  the  miracles  of  his- 
tory. Its  systems  of  transportation  and  communi- 
cation, its  vast  enterprises  of  industrial  and  social 
activity,  its  complex  machinery  of  production,  dis- 
tribution and  exchange,  its  enormous  expansions  of 
knowledge,  efficiency  and  interdependent  life,  com- 
bine to  make  mankind  more  truly  a  unit  than  it  has 
ever  been  before.  Society  has  become  what 
Herbert  Spencer  anticipated  as  the  "social  organ- 


180  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

ism."  But  to  what  ends  is  this  organism  adjusted? 
To  ends  of  service  or  exploitation,  of  liberation  or 
enslavement  for  mankind?  Look  upon  the  world 
as  it  has  developed  during  the  amazing  years  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  what  do  we  see  but  the 
progressive  subjection  of  the  race?  To  the  remotest 
ends  of  the  expropriated  earth,  we  see  the  millions 
caught  in  the  entanglements  of  this  awful  system  of 
property  and  profits.  They  swarm  in  coal  mines 
and  copper  fields,  in  steel  foundries  and  textile 
mills,  in  sweat-shops,  tenements  and  slums.  They 
labor  terribly  and  live  miserably  in  the  best  of 
times ;  and  when  scourges  of  commercial  depression, 
like  old-time  pestilences,  sweep  the  world  of  indus- 
try, they  live  as  best  they  can  in  beggary  or  die  in 
squalor.  Can  these  who  have  no  homes,  possess  no 
books  or  pictures,  enjoy  no  influences  of  gentleness 
and  care,  be  men  in  any  spiritual  or  even  deeply 
human  sense?  They  can  exist,  if  the  wage  be  good 
and  the  work  not  slack;  but  can  they  live  as  God 
intended  that  his  sons  of  earth  should  live?  These 
unhappy  mortals  have  no  chance  in  such  environ- 
ment. They  are  subdued  to  their  factories  and 
gutters,  as  the  hand  of  the  dyer  to  the  medium  in 
which  it  works.  The  moral  problem  of  the  indi- 1 
vidual  in  such  case  altogether  disappears  before  the  | 
prior  problem  of  the  social  order. 

But  how  about  the  human  will — ^that  power  of 
creative  imagination  and  activity  which  sets  off 
man  from  all  other  earthly  organisms  as  merely 
creatures?     Is  this  not  present  in  the  lowest  and 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  181 

most  unfortunate  of  men,  and  free  to  lift  him  above 
the  environment  which  despoils  him? 

So  it  may  seem  to  those  well  and  safely  born,  out 
of  and  above  the  miry  ruck  of  life !  But  no  will  is 
really  free  which  is  "cribbed,  cabin'd  and  confin'd'' 
by  the  economic  determinism  which  is  the  over- 
whelmingly decisive  factor  in  modern  industrial 
society.  Or  if  it  be  free  by  virtue  of  inherent 
strength  or  fortunate  release  of  circumstance,  it 
can  rightly  act  not  to  save  itself,  but  to  save  others 
by  remaking  conditions  of  life  and  labor  which 
doom  men  to  wastage,  misery  and  decay.  What  we 
are  confronted  by  is  a  social  order  which  is  destruc- 
tive and  not  helpful  to  human  welfare.  The  very 
cruelty  and  injustice  of  such  a  system  as  now  pre- 
dominates, should  stir  our  souls  to  some  such 
wrathful  indignation  as  the  prophets  of  every  age 
have  voiced  against  the  social  outrages  of  their 
time.  But  beyond  this  is  the  purely  practical  ques- 
tion of  a  technique  for  delivering  mankind  from 
spiritual  death.  And  the  cold  matter  of  fact  is 
that  the  complex  organization  of  modern  industry 
has  so  changed  and  at  the  same  time  fixed  relation- 
ships between  men,  that  individuals  can  no  longer, 
if  they  ever  could,  be  saved  apart  from  the  con- 
ditions of  the  environment  in  whic<h  they  live.  To 
save  a  slum  population  from  physical  degeneration, 
moral  corruption  and  spiritual  atrophy,  we  must 
seek  not  to  educate  and  redeem  persons,  but  to  wipe 
out  slums.  To  save  the  children  who  crowd  our 
juvenile  courts  and  reformatories,  we  must  seek  not 


182  NEW   CHURCHES    FOE    OLD 

to  punish,  teach  or  even  inspire  boys  and  girls,  but 
to  change  their  gutters  into  playgrounds,  their 
tenement  abodes  into  decent  homes,  their  scanty 
food  into  abundant  nourishment,  their  wretched 
pleasures  into  wholesome  recreation.  To  save  our 
drunkards,  prostitutes  and  gunmen,  we  need  not  to 
rear  mission  houses  and  rescue  stations,  though 
these  are  useful  for  the  ambulance  service  of  the 
soul,  but  to  close  saloons,  abolish  cruel  and  indecent 
conditions  of  labor,  train  hands  and  brains  to 
skilled  occupations,  establish  the  minimum  wage, 
solve  the  vexed  problem  of  unemployment,  and  in 
general  end  the  intolerable  scourge  of  poverty.  The 
problem  of  morals  today  is  the  problem  of  com- 
mercialized vice,  corrupt  politics,  selfish  business, 
inequitable  taxation,  labor,  capital,  imperialism 
and  war.  The  challenge  of  the  soul  today  is  the 
challenge  to  a  new  moral  and  social  order  which 
shall  revolutionize  existing  institutions  of  govern- 
ment and  property.  If  the  masses  of  men  and 
women  are  ever  to  be  anything  more  than  drudges, 
robbed  of  vision,  hope,  love  and  high  adventure,  a 
new  society  must  be  created — a  society  which  shall 
put  cooperation  in  place  of  competition,  public 
service  in  place  of  private  profit,  solidarity  in  place 
^  of  class  consciousness  and  struggle,  communal 
responsibility  in  place  of  corporate  privilege  and 
exploitation.  For  sudh  task  of  social  creation,  we 
need  new  virtues.  Not  the  old  "sweetness  and 
light,''  the  conventional  gentleness,  kindness  and 
good- will ;  but  courage,  faith,  patience  in  struggle, 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  183 

heroic  loyalty  to  justice,  ruthless  hatred  of  evil,  love 
for  men  that  never  fails !  These  virtues  will  give 
us  character,  if  we  are  concerned  with  character. 
For  character  is  not  being  good  but  doing  good.  It 
is  not  inward  sanctity  but  outward  sacrifice. 
Character  is  the  by-product  of  service. 


Such  is  the  logic  of  that  humanism  which  consti- 
tutes our  new  basis  of  religion.  Our  shift  of 
spiritual  viewpoint  from  God  to  man,  has  carried 
us  straight  from  theology,  through  ethics,  to 
sociology.  For  the  individual  is  not  an  individual 
at  all,  but  a  social  being;  morality  is  not  a  science 
of  personality  but  of  solidarity;  salvation  is  the 
problem  of  fellowship  in  a  righteous  social  order. 
Religion,  in  other  words,  is  the  task  of  bringing  in 
the  Kingdom  of  God  upon  the  earth ! 

Religion  has  ever  thus  been  recognized  by  the 
prophetic  souls  of  history — preeminently  by  Jesus ! 
His  gospel  was  wholly  a  gospel  of  solidarity.  He 
sought  no  salvation  of  man  apart  from  the  common 
group.  His  teachings  constitute  not  dogmas  of 
theology,  nor  yet  rules  of  ethics,  but  principles  of 
sociology.  But  the  church  would  never  have  it  so ! 
It  has  proclaimed  with  an  authority  that  has  passed 
persistently  into  intolerance,  that  religion  was  an 
experience  not  in  but  apart  from  life.  It  has  set 
the  church  over  against  the  world ;  and  challenged 
with  its  creeds  the  science,  philosophy  and  arts  of 


184  NEW  OHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

men.  It  has  created  the  autonomy  of  individual 
and  society,  and  thus  found  a  doctrine  of  human 
interests  that  are  separate  and  not  identical.  It 
has  made  religion  a  narrow,  selfi^,  private  emotion, 
which  drives  the  Christian  to  his  solitary  pilgrim- 
age of  salvation,  while  leaving  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion and  its  unhappy  people,  his  fellow-citizens,  to 
their  fate. 

But  as  the  church  has  heeded  not  its  prophets,  so 
men  in  turn  have  heeded  not  the  church.  Within 
themselves  they  have  found  instincts  of  association 
more  potent  far  than  papal  bulls  or  synodal  creeds. 
For  man  is  made  for  love.  He  is  drawn  and  held 
to  his  fellows  by  a  force  as  irresistible  as  the  gravi- 
tation which  binds  the  atoms  and  holds  together  the 
stars  within  their  courses.  If  he  goes  apart  from 
them,  he  is  pulled  back  by  the  very  necessities  of  his 
being.  If  he  hates,  it  is  but  for  a  moment ;  he  loves 
eternally.  Man  cannot  help  loving,  even  if  he 
would.  For  love  is  a  natural  and  not  an  artificial 
force.  It  "flows  from  creature  to  creature,  as  elec- 
tricity from  iron  to  iron.  .  .  .  It  is  a  force  which 
does  not  require  either  momentary  exaltation  or 
habitual  elevation  in  order  to  manifest  itself.  It  is 
a  force  which  discloses  itself  whenever  people  come 
together,  and  it  is  at  work  every  day  and  every- 
where in  society,  as  steadily  and  usefully  as  any 
of  the  grosser  forces  which  man  hitches  to  his 
wagon."  ^  It  is  this  which  explains  the  phenome- 
non of  "Society  and  its  progress.     That  man  is  not 


^Henrj  D.  Lloyd,  in  Man  the  Social  Creator,  pages  6,  7. 


THEOLOGY  AND  SOCIOLOGY  185 

a  savage  wandering  lonely  upon  the  earth,  but  a 
tribesman,  a  clansman,  a  citizen,  is  due  not  to  any 
divine  leadership  from  above,  but  to  an  instinct  of 
his  inner  nature  which  has  its  origin  in  cosmic 
sources.  Love  fuses  men  into  families  and  nations, 
as  earlier  it  fused  animals  into  flocks  and  herds. 
It  creates  social  forms,  and  laws,  and  institutions 
for  its  expression;  and  then  destroys  them  when 
they  would  bind  the  flow  of  its  inexhaustible  tide. 
Eevolutions  are  but  the  vast  upheavals  of  love, 
rending  the  crust  of  custom  and  tradition  which 
would  confine  its  holy  fires.  Man  cannot  live 
alone;  the  self-interest  of  the  individual  is  his 
destruction.  "The  horrors  of  our  Reign  of  Terror 
and  Armenian  massacres  evidence  the  price  men 
are  willing  to  pay  for  more  and  better  love.''  ^ 

History  is  the  love  story  of  humanity.  It  is  the 
tale  of  man's  struggle  to  find  and  know  his  fellows, 
and  learn  the  lesson  of  their  common  life.  From 
the  first  emergence  of  the  race  upon  this  planet 
until  now,  man  has  been  engaged  in  this  single 
adventure  of  solidarity.  Democracy  is  the  last  and 
greatest  chapter  of  the  narrative — ^the  democracy 
that  seeks  to  free  men  from  the  institutions  that 
hold  them  apart  as  prisoners  in  dungeons ;  and  then 
to  unite  them  in  a  fellowship  of  faith  and  order  that 
shall  endure.  In  his  eternal  quest,  man  has  suc- 
ceeded greatly,  and  failed  more  greatly.  He  has 
builded  deep  and  wide  and  high  the  structures  of 
his  universal  hope,  only  to  see  them  fall  and  all  but 


*  Henry  D.  Llojd.  in  Man  the  Social  Creator,  page  7. 


1S6  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

crush  him  in  their  ruins.  But  each  failure  has 
marked  but  the  beginning  of  a  yet  greater  under- 
taking— as  nowj  amid  the  wreckage  of  the  Great 
War,  man  rises  bruised,  broken,  but  undismayed,  to 
gird  himself  for  the  task  of  remaking  this  sorry 
scheme  of  things,  that  men  at  last  may  be  united  in 
a  world  order  that  shall  be  permanent. 

H.  G.  Wells,  in  closing  his  The  Outline  of 
History y  ventures  "to  prophesy  that  the  next  chap- 
ters to  be  written  will  tell,  though  perhaps  with 
long  interludes  of  set-back  and  disaster,  of  the  final 
achievement  of  world-wide  political  and  social 
unity."  This,  we  take  it,  is  a  religious  message,  for 
the  struggle  of  man  for  fellowship  has  been  from 
the  beginning  his  true  religion.  It  is  the  recog- 
nition of  this  fact  that  marks  the  transition  from 
theology  to  sociology.  The  churches  which  will 
sanctify  this  recognition  are  alone  the  temples  of 
the  living  God. 


CHAPTEE  VII 
CHUECH  AND  STATE 


"In  losing  sight  of  the  connection  between  religion 
and  nationality,  we  lose  the  clue  to  the  struggle  between 
Church  and  State,  which  is  the  capital  fact  in  the  de- 
velopment of  Europe.  As  in  the  first  part  of  the  struggle 
we  overlook  that  the  Church  is  but  another  aspect  of  the 
Empire,  so  in  the  later  stages  of  it,  we  are  blind  to  the 
fact  that  under  the  so-called  State,  there  lurks  a  new, 
undeveloped  Church. 

For  State  and  Church  belong  together.  ...  As  the 
Church  without  the  State  becomes  a  mere  philosophical 
or  quasi-philosophical  sect,  so  the  State  without  the 
Church  is  a  mere  administrative  machine,  the  feebleness 
of  which  has  been  brought  to  light  in  the  revolutions 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  .  .  .  The  modern  States 
which  boast  so  loudly  of  their  absolute  secularity,  or 
even  of  their  hostility  to  religion,  are  not  content  in 
practise  to  be  merely  secular.  .  .  .  They  study  to  form 
out  of  their  own  separate  nationalities  a  new  religion. 

Sir  John  Seeley,  in 

Natural  Beligion 


CHAPTER  VII 
CHURCH  AND   STATE 


The  elimination  of  the  distinction  between  sacred 
and  secular,  and  the  transformation  of  religion 
from  a  system  of  theology  to  a  program  of  social 
life,  are  alike  phases  of  spiritual  change  which  have 
been  long  discussed  and  found  wide  acceptance. 
Very  different  is  the  discussion  of  the  problem  of 
church  and  state,  since  this  raises  into  controversy 
a  question  which  was  apparently  settled  some  cen- 
turies ago.  For  this  very  reason  it  is  more  im- 
portant to  our  argument  than  either  of  the  others, 
since  it  opens  up  to  our  view  the  whole  prospect  of 
what  is  involved  in  our  belief  that  we  are  today  in 
need  of  new  churches  for  old. 

There  can  be  no  dissent  from  the  proposition  that 
the  separation  of  church  and  state  constitutes  one 
of  the  supreme  achievements  of  modern  civilization, 
and  is  the  foundation  on  which  stands  that  great 
structure  of  spiritual  liberty  which  is  today  so 
dearly  prized.  Furthermore,  it  must  be  agreed 
that,  if  church  and  state  are  to  be  in  the  future  what 
they  are  today,  and  have  always  been  in  the  past, 

1S9 


190  NEW   CHUECHES    FOE    OLD 

their  separation  must  be  guarded  as  a  necessary 
condition  of  human  welfare  and  happiness.  But 
are  they  always  to  remain  what  they  are  today? 
Who  can  answer  this  question  with  any  confidence 
in  the  aflBirmative?  For  three  hundred  years  or 
more,  democracy  has  been  at  large  in  the  world. 
In  the  name  of  liberty,  it  has  challenged  the  most 
ancient  laws,  institutions  and  customs ;  and  built  a 
new  society  for  the  service  of  man's  needs.  Today, 
in  the  quest  of  that  higher  liberty  which  is  fellow- 
ship, it  is  speaking  a  new  challenge,  even  of  those 
institutions  which  it  has  itself  conceived  and  made. 
In  the  light  of  what  has  transpired  since  the  vast 
upheaval  of  the  war,  and  is  now  transpiring  the 
world  around,  there  would  seem  to  be  no  institution 
more  unstable  than  the  state,  save  only  the  church. 
Both  of  these  institutions  are  now  in  process  of 
radical  transformation  at  the  hands  of  the  demo- 
cratic spirit;  and  this  means  inevitably  a  drastic 
change  in  relations  between  the  two!  In  the  old 
days,  as  we  shall  see,  it  was  necessary,  as  a  con- 
dition of  spiritual  liberty,  that  the  church  should  be 
separated  from  the  state,  and  the  state  from  the 
church.  Today,  however,  as  a  condition  of  that 
fellowship  which  is  the  fulfillment  of  liberty,  it  may 
well  appear  that  church  and  state,  as  remolded  by 
the  new  democracy  of  our  time,  must  be  no  longer 
sundered  but  joined.  The  reunion  of  church  and 
state  in  the  common  service  of  the  common  life,  is 
a  consummation  which  is  now  immediately  in 
prospect. 


CHUECH  AND  STATE  191 

II 

When  history  was  young,  church  and  state  be- 
longed together;  religion  and  politics  were  one  and 
the  same  thing.  The  faith  recognized  by  the  king 
or  ruling  house  was  the  faith  imposed  upon  the 
people;  it  was  as  necessary  for  a  subject  to  worship 
the  gods  of  his  sovereign,  as  to  follow  this  sove- 
reign into  battle  or  accompany  him  on  the  chase. 
Eeligion,  in  other  words,  w^as  a  function  of  the  state 
and  heresy  was  synonymous  with  treason.  If  a 
king  for  any  reason  changed  the  character  of  the 
religious  rites  of  his  country,  the  change  had  to  be 
immediately  recognized  and  adopted  by  the  people 
as  a  condition  of  their  continued  allegiance  to  the 
state.  If  the  king  found  it  advisable  to  import 
from  abroad  the  gods  of  some  neighboring  country, 
then  it  became  the  duty  of  each  citizen  of  the  realm 
to  add  these  gods  to  the  already  recognized  native 
deities.  If  the  country  was  overrun  by  some 
foreign  invader,  then  was  the  citizen  obliged  to 
transform  his  allegiance  not  merely  to  his  military 
conqueror  but  also  to  the  gods  which  were  w^or<^ 
shiped  by  this  conqueror.  Thus  when  Josiah,  as 
told  in  the  Old  Testament,  forbade  the  worship  of 
Jehovah  on  the  so-called  high  places  of  the  king- 
dom, and  ordered  men  to  pay  their  vows  in  the 
temple  on  Mount  Zion,  the  people  as  good  citizens 
found  it  necessary  to  tear  down  their  beloved  high 
places,  and  turn  their  minds  and  hearts  to  Jerusa- 
lem.     So    also    when    Manasseh    imported    into 


192  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE   OLD 

Israel  the  gods  of  the  Syrians  and  Philistines,  his 
obedient  subjects  opened  their  altars  and  hearths 
to  the  influence  of  these  alien  deities.  And  when 
Nebuchadnezzar  conquered  the  kingdom  and  turned 
Jerusalem  to  destruction,  the  unhappy  captives  by 
the  waters  of  Babylon  found  that  they  must  do 
obeisance  to  the  divine  being  of  this  heathen  land. 
God,  in  other  words,  belonged  to  the  king,  and 
obedience  to  the  latter  involved  worship  of  the 
former. 

This  identity  of  church  and  state,  of  religion  and 
politics,  made  impossible,  of  course,  any  such  thing 
as  spiritual  freedom.  Liberty  in  religion  was  un- 
known in  ancient  times,  for  the  very  reason  that 
church  and  state  were  one,  and  religion  therefore  a 
mere  accompaniment  or  expression  of  political 
allegiance.  To  be  a  good  citizen  of  the  state  in- 
volved being  a  faithful  worshiper  of  the  gods  of 
the  state;  and  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  the 
king  was  the  arbiter  of  his  subjects'  lives. 

Only  in  the  case  of  Eome  do  we  find  a  suggestion 
of  what  we  now  mean  by  spiritual  freedom.  In  the 
republic,  as  later  in  the  empire,  there  was  practiced 
a  certain  tolerance  of  foreign  cults  and  religions 
which  constituted  one  of  the  most  remarkable  fea- 
tures of  ancient  civilization.  When  the  legions  of 
Rome  overran  the  territory  of  some  foreign  country, 
it  was  demanded,  of  course,  that  the  conquered 
population  should  not  only  recognize  the  over- 
lordship  of  Rome,  but  also  the  supremacy  of  the 
gods  who  sat  enthroned  upon  the  Seven  Hills  of  the 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  193 

great  city*  But  when  such  recognition  had  been 
offered,  and  pledged  in  some  act  of  formal  obeisance, 
the  people  were  given  the  freest  opportunity  to 
worship  their  own  gods  and  maintain  the  rights  and 
ceremonies  of  their  own  religion.  Later  on,  in  the 
days  of  the  empire,  the  devotees  of  foreign  gods 
were  freely  permitted  to  bring  their  altars  to  the 
Eternal  City  itself,  and  there  set  them  up  side  by 
side  with  the  altars  of  the  Roman  deities.  Even 
the  Jews  were  permitted  to  build  their  synagogues 
and  conduct  their  extraordinary  worship  of  the  one 
God,  Jehovah.  Rome,  at  this  time,  came  nearer  to 
being  a  genuine  congress  of  universal  religion  than 
any  other  place  which  the  world  has  known.  It 
was  this  tolerance  not  only  of  native  customs,  but 
of  religious  superstitions,  which  helped  to  make  the 
Romans  the  most  successful  of  ancient  conquerors, 
and  to  build  the  structure  of  their  empire  upon 
foundations  which  promised  for  a  time  to  endure 
forever. 

How  far  this  tolerance  came  from  being  what  we 
mean  today  by  religious  liberty,  was  promptly 
demonstrated  when  the  Christian  religion  made  its 
appearance  in  the  empire.  Here,  for  the  first  time 
in  the  history  of  the  world,  was  proclaimed  the 
principle  that  there  was  a  power  at  work  among 
men  which  was  superior  to  that  of  the  state.  To 
the  Christians  the  church  was  one  thing,  and  the 
state  was  another;  and  these  disciples  of  the 
Nazarene  boldly  proclaimed  that  when  it  became 
necessary  to  make  choice  between  the  two,  it  was 


194  NEW   CHUEOHES    FOR   OLD 

the  church  and  not  the  state  which  must  have  their 
allegiance.  It  is  diflficult  for  us  to  realize  the  sig- 
nificance of  this  revolutionary  declaration  of  the 
emancipation  of  the  soul  of  the  individual  from  the 
dominant  control  of  the  government.  To  assert 
that  obedience  was  due  first  to  God  and  only 
secondarily  to  Caesar  was  to  challenge  the 
supremacy  of  government,  and  this  was  something 
which  was  new  in  the  experience  of  mankind. 
What  such  assertion  meant  both  to  the  individual 
and  to  the  state,  was  very  soon  made  manifest.  The 
Christian,  for  example,  refused  to  lay  upon  the 
altars  of  the  Eoman  gods  the  offerings  which  were 
required  by  the  government  in  recognition  of  their 
sovereignty,  and  thus  made  themselves  not  merely 
heretics  but  traitors.  They  refused  to  participate 
in  the  great  religious  festivals  of  the  state,  and 
thus  put  themselves  altogether  outside  the  political 
pale.  When  ordered  to  take  up  arms  and  do  their 
share  in  defending  the  borders  of  Rome  from  the 
Germanic  invasions  on  the  Rhine  and  Danube,  the 
Christians  refused  to  become  soldiers,  on  the 
ground  that  their  religion  forbade  them  to  kill,  and 
commanded  them  to  love  and  not  to  hate  their 
enemies.  The  issue  here  joined  was  absolute — no 
compromise  or  escape  was  possible.  Immediately, 
in  the  case  of  these  Christians,  at  least,  the  toler- 
ance of  the  Roman  government  was  transformed 
into  the  most  determined  and  cruel  persecution! 
Such  spiritual  freedom  as  was  claimed  by  the 
Christians,  was  regarded  by  the  Romans  as  impos- 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  195 

Bible,  if  the  government  was  to  stand  and  the  empire 
to  endure.  It  is  significant  that  it  was  in  nearly 
every  case  the  best  emperors  and  not  the  worst  who 
persecuted  the  Christians  most  savagely.  Those 
rulers  who  were  most  keenly  conscious  of  their 
duties  to  the  state  and  their  obligation  to  strengthen 
and  maintain  the  government,  were  the  very  ones 
who  regarded  the  Christians  as  enemies  of  society 
and  a  menace  therefore  to  the  commonweal. 

It  might  be  imagined  that  all  this  would  have 
been  changed  when  the  Christians  gained  control  of 
the  empire  in  313,  through  the  conversion  of  the 
Emperor  Constantine.  Surely  these  people  who 
had  themselves  been  so  dreadfully  persecuted, 
would  now  recognize  and  grant  to  others  that 
spiritual  freedom  which  they  had  claimed  so  per- 
sistently for  themselves !  But  as  has  happened  so 
often  both  before  and  since  that  time,  the  perse- 
cuted now  became,  with  their  accession  to  power, 
the  most  ruthless  of  persecutors.  From  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fourth  century,  down  to  the  opening  of 
the  Protestant  Reformation,  religious  liberty  was 
as  impossible  as  ever  it  had  been  in  the  classic 
period  of  history.  The  leaders  of  the  Roman 
church  proclaimed  their  religion  to  be  universal, 
and  visited  indescribable  tortures  upon  those  who, 
for  any  reason,  dared  to  dispute  this  universality. 
Church  and  state,  in  other  words,  now  became  more 
closely  joined  than  ever  they  had  been  in  ancient 
days.  Quarrels  between  the  two  were  frequent; 
and  as  we  turn  the  pages  of  medieval  history,  w^e 


196  NEW   OHUECHES    FOE    OLD 

are  tempted  to  believe  that  the  struggle  between 
church  and  state  in  this  era  presents  a  real  issue  of 
religious  liberty.  But  we  should  not  be  deceived 
into  thinking  that  any  such  question  was  involved. 
The  Eoman  church,  during  all  these  centuries,  was 
not  a  church  at  all,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  but  a  great 
political  government  which  had  succeeded  to  the 
empire  of  Eome  and  was  now  exercising  the  proud 
functions  of  that  great  state.  If  there  was  a 
struggle  between  the  Eoman  church  and  what  came 
to  be  known  as  the  Holy  Eoman  Empire,  it  was  not 
a  struggle  between  two  separate  and  competing 
powers,  but  only  a  competition  between  the  two 
parties  of  a  single  contract.  The  question  at  issue 
between  church  and  state  in  the  Middle  Ages  was 
only  the  question  as  to  whether  the  church  or  the 
state  should  be  the  party  of  the  first  part  in  the 
working  out  of  the  contract  which  had  been  joined 
between  the  two.  That  religion  should  be  separated 
from  politics,  that  the  church  should  leave  to  the 
state  the  business  of  government  and  the  state  leave 
to  the  church  the  business  of  religion,  all  this  was 
never  dreamed  of  for  a  moment.  Least  of  all  was 
it  imagined,  either  by  pope  or  emperor,  that  the 
soul  of  any  single  man  or  woman  was  to  be  allowed 
to  live  its  own  life  apart  from  external  dictation. 
When  the  pope  was  at  the  head  of  things,  the  con- 
trol of  politics  and  religion  alike  was  in  his  hands : 
and  the  same  thing  was  true  when  the  emperor  was 
on  the  throne.    Each  was  contending  with  the  other 


CHUECH  AND  STATE  197 

for  the  single  mastery  of  the  two  great  realms  of 
the  world  and  the  spirit. 


Ill 

What  had  been  so  valiantly  asserted  by  the 
primitive  Christians,  only  to  be  lost  with  the 
triumph  of  the  church  save  as  certain  heretical  and 
sorely  persecuted  sects  kept  alight  in  dark  ages  the 
torch  of  freedom,  was  now  proclaimed  in  trumpet 
tones  by  the  Reformation.  The  Renaissance,  as  we 
have  seen,  started  the  democratic  movement  of 
modern  times  with  a  revolt  against  institutional 
authority,  founded  upon  the  doctrine  of  liberty  for 
the  individual  soul;  and  the  immediate  result  in 
the  religious  field  was  the  assertion,  over  wide 
areas,  of  "the  liberty  of  the  Christian  man."  All 
too  soon  the  reformers,  alarmed  by  the  consequences 
of  their  own  teaching,  called  a  halt.  But  it  was  too 
late !  Democracy  had  begun  its  work !  The  politi- 
cal unity  of  the  Empire  was  crumbling,  the  power 
of  Rome  was  shattered,  men  were  everywhere  run- 
ning at  large,  there  was  no  central  authority  to 
exercise  dominion.  Above  all,  the  Bible  was  loose ! 
Men  were  now  turning  the  sacred  pages,  and  read- 
ing for  themselves  what  they  regarded  as  the  direct 
revelation  of  the  Most  High.  Little  groups  began 
to  gather  themselves  together  into  churches,  to 
establish  religious  rites  and  practices,  to  prepare 
and  publish  creeds.  Great  leaders  appeared,  who 
started  popular  movements  of  revolt.     Within  half 


198  NEW   CHURCHES    FOE    OLD 

a  century  there  were  scores  of  Protestant  sects 
established  in  different  parts  of  Europe.  The  whole 
religious  world  was  in  ferment,  and  at  the  heart  of 
the  storm  was  the  solitary  soul  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  authority  and  majesty  of  God. 

The  result  of  this  emancipation  of  the  individual, 
as  regards  the  relation  between  church  and  state, 
was  nothing  short  of  revolutionary.  The  kings  and 
princes  of  the  various  European  countries  suddenly 
found  themselves  confronted  by  subjects  who  dared 
to  assert  their  independence  of  the  spiritual  dic- 
tator on  the  throne.  Everywhere  they  saw  churches 
into  which  they  were  not  allowed  to  enter  and  in 
which  their  political  over-lordship  was  neglected  or 
defied.  Men  and  women,  through  the  spiritual 
deliverance  which  they  had  won,  were  now  all  at 
once  become  traitors;  so  it  seemed,  at  least,  to  the 
sovereigns  to  whom  they  were  pledged  to  give 
allegiance.  When  the  king  of  France,  for  example, 
looked  upon  his  kingdom  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, he  saw  it  swarming  with  Huguenots  who 
refused  to  recognize  his  authority  as  a  political 
representative  of  the  pope,  or  to  accept  at  his  hands 
the  doctrines  and  principles  of  the  Catholic  faith. 
In  England  an  exactly  opposite  situation  was 
present.  Here  a  Protestant  sovereign.  Queen  Eliza- 
beth or  King  Edward  VI,  for  example,  saw  thou- 
sands of  subjects  who  persisted  in  being  Catholics, 
and  thus  paying  their  primary  spiritual  allegiance 
to  the  hated  Roman  pope.  In  other  countries  there 
were  other  varieties  of  trouble  of  this  same  general 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  199 

type.  Thus  in  Germany,  Protestant  princes  of  the 
Lutheran  persuasion  were  horrified  to  discover  in 
their  realms  people  who  would  not  be  Lutherans, 
but  persisted  in  establishing  some  peculiar  Prot- 
estant sect  of  their  own. 

It  was  a  strange  confusion.  And  the  rulers,  as 
though  by  common  agreement,  met  the  situation  by 
resolute  assertion  of  the  old  principle  of  union  of 
church  and  state.  If  a  subject  did  not  like  the 
religion  of  his  ruler,  he  must  nevertheless  submit  or 
suffer  the  penalties  of  treason.  Thus  did  the 
Catholic  sovereigns  of  France  harry  the  Huguenots 
out  of  the  land,  in  vindication  of  their  royal  dignity 
and  power.  In  the  same  way  did  Protestant 
sovereigns  of  England  pursue  the  Catholics;  and 
Lutheran  princes  in  Germany  set  upon  Anabaptists, 
Calvinists  and  all  nonconformists  whatsoever. 
Even  those  who  themselves  suffered  the  torments  of 
persecution,  visited  these  same  torments  upon 
others  the  instant  they  gained  the  seats  of  power. 
Thus  when  the  Puritans  were  driven  out  of 
England,  and  crossed  the  wintry  seas  of  the 
Atlantic  to  these  unknown  shores,  to  find  refuge 
where  they  might  be  free  to  worship  God,  they 
immediately  established  a  union  of  church  and  state 
which  was  one  of  the  most  oppressive  ever  known 
in  the  annals  of  humankind.  From  the  beginning 
in  the  early  Puritan  settlements  of  Boston,  Dor- 
chester, Salem,  Dedham,  etc.,  citizenship  was 
limited  to  those  who  were  regular  members  of  the 
established  Congregational  church.     Any  man  who 


200  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE    OLD 

desired  to  be  free  of  the  dominance  of  this  church, 
as  the  Puritans  themselves  had  desired  to  be  free  of 
the  dominance  of  Anglicanism  in  the  old  country, 
was  refused  all  rights  of  citizenship  and  thus 
excluded  from  the  social  family.  In  the  case  of 
those  whose  nonconformity  was  conspicuous,  as  for 
example  the  Quakers,  our  Puritan  forefathers 
proved  themselves  to  be  ruthless  persecutors.  One 
has  only  to  read  such  a  book  as  Mr.  Brooks  Adams's 
The  Emancipation  of  Massachusetts  to  discover 
what  the  union  of  church  and  state,  in  the  Massa- 
chusetts Bay  Colony,  meant  in  terms  of  tyranny. 
The  reformers  believed  in  liberty  as  little  as  the 
rulers;  intolerance  was  still  the  accepted  practice 
of  the  times. 

The  consequence  of  these  events  was  the  develop- 
ment of  leaders  who  held  fast  to  the  early  democ- 
racy of  the  Reformation,  and  saw  with  clearness 
that  if  liberty,  which  was  the  touchstone  of  this 
democracy,  was  to  be  recognized,  there  must  be 
absolute  separation  between  church  and  state. 
Religion  must  be  taken  out  of  the  control  of  the 
government,  and  left  to  the  exclusive  care  and 
service  of  the  individual  heart.  Thus  appeared 
that  "separation  of  church  and  state"  which  has 
been  one  of  the  watchwords  of  democracy  from  that 
day  to  this.  Everywhere  appeared  valiant  men 
and  women  who  showed  themselves  willing  to  lay 
down  their  lives  for  the  sake  of  vindicating  the 
right  of  the  soul  to  live  out  its  religion  in  entire 
independence  of  the  state.     Hundreds  of  thousands 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  201 

gladly  took  the  name  of  traitor  that  they  might 
thereby  prove  their  fidelity  to  the  things  of  God. 
Christ  and  Caesar,  as  in  the  early  days  of  Chris- 
tianity, came  again  into  conflict,  and  this  time  it 
was  Christ  and  not  Caesar  who  was  triumphant. 
The  Anabaptists  in  Germany,  the  Huguenots  in 
France,  the  Mennonites  in  Holland,  the  Independ- 
ents in  England,  the  Quakers  everywhere — ^these  are 
gome  of  the  noble  groups  of  Protestants  who  dared 
the  power  of  the  state  that  they  might  free  their 
churches  for  the  true  service  of  religion.  In  this 
country,  the  separation  of  church  and  state,  as  a 
condition  of  religious  liberty,  was  first  proclaimed 
by  the  immortal  Roger  Williams,  who  went  forth 
gladly  into  untrodden  wildernesses  that  he  might 
establish  a  new  settlement  where  men  might  be  free 
to  worship  God  in  their  own  way.  When  Provi- 
dence was  founded,  the  first  chapter  of  true  relig- 
ious liberty  in  America,  if  the  story  of  Plymouth 
be  excepted,  was  written.  Thanks  to  these  noble 
heretics,  the  principle  of  the  separation  of  church 
and  state  became  one  of  the  central  principles 
of  Protestantism.  Through  the  blood  of  martyrs 
and  the  slow  but  sure  growth  of  understand- 
ing, this  principle  came  gradually  to  be  recog- 
nized. Finally,  with  the  writing  of  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  United  States,  which  provided  for  the 
absolute  freedom  of  all  churches  from  government 
recognition  or  control,  this  principle  was  estab- 
lished as  one  of  the  foundation  stones  of  modern 
democracy.       Nearly    everywhere,    now,    in    our 


202  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOR   OLD 

Western  world,  is  church  separate  from  state,  and 
state  from  church;  and  thus  the  spiritual  freedom 
of  the  individual  guaranteed/ 


IV 

The  importance  of  this  separation  of  church  and 
state  to  the  cause  of  democracy,  as  expressed  in  the 
ideal  of  liberty,  must  be  manifest  to  all  who  are 
familiar  with  conditions  in  the  past  and  as  they 
exist  very  largely  at  the  present  moment.  It  must 
be  conceded,  however,  that  liberty  has  been  pur- 
chased in  this  case  as  in  other  cases,  at  a  great 
price.  Separation  of  church  and  state,  in  other 
words,  involves  embarrassments  and  difficulties  as 
well  as  advantages.  Certainly  it  brings  with  it 
some  conditions  which  seem  fatal  to  any  final  work- 
ing out  of  the  religious  idea. 

In  our  discussion  of  the  distinction  between 
sacred  and  secular,  for  example,  we  discovered  that 
the  whole  development  of  religious  thought  these 
days  is  tending  toward  the  necessary  reconciliation 
of  these  two  arbitrary  divisions  of  human  experi- 
ence. We  have  come  to  the  point  where  the  sacred 
must  be  merged  with  the  secular,  as  the  condition  of 
true  spiritual  democracy.  Yet  here,  in  this  sep- 
aration of  church  and  state,  do  we  find  perhaps  the 
sharpest  division  between  things  sacred  and  things 
secular,  of  which  we  have  experience. 


^  It  may  be  well  to  note  that  the  issue  was  presented  afresh  by  the 
so-called  **  conscientious  objectors  "  to  war.  Many  of  these  objected 
on  sincere  religious  grounds,  and  yet  were  conscripted  or  imprisoned. 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  203 

The  same  holds  true  of  the  problem  involved  in 
the  socialization  of  religion.  For  is  not  this  an 
explanation  of  the  reluctance  of  men  to  apply  vigor- 
ously to  social  conditions  those  ethical  and  spiritual 
standards  which  they  reverence  and  in  so  large 
measure  regard  in  their  individual  lives?  Is  this 
not  one  of  the  facts  which  explains  the  strange 
insistence  of  most  men  that  religious  ideals  are 
impracticable,  and  cannot  therefore  be  utilized  in 
affairs  of  state?  Is  there  any  other  one  thing  which 
takes  us  so  far  into  the  heart  of  the  mystery  of  the 
prevailing  immorality  of  politics  and  business? 
Does  anything  reveal  more  clearly  the  reason  of 
diplomatic  intrigue  and  general  international  dis- 
order? The  state,  it  is  agreed,  is  something  apart 
from  the  church ;  industry  and  politics  have  nothing 
to  do  with  religion ;  therefore  may  social  affairs  be 
legitimately  controlled  by  principles  not  of  right 
but  of  expediency.  So  also,  on  the. other  hand,  in 
the  matter  of  persuading  the  church  to  act  effi- 
ciently and  uncompromisingly  as  an  agent  of  social 
change!  Is  it  not  the  separation  of  church  and 
state  which  has  helped  to  convince  men  that  re- 
ligion should  concern  itself  only  with  private  and 
not  with  public  matters?  More  and  more  em- 
phatically, in  recent  years,  enlightened  teachers 
have  tried  to  persuade  the  churches  to  grapple  at 
first  hand  with  social  reform — to  lead  in  crusades 
for  the  emancipation  of  labor,  the  abolition  of 
poverty,  the  establishment  of  international  peace, 
in  general  the  reconstruction  of  the  present  social 


204  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

order  on  lines  of  justice  and  good  will;  and  always 
have  these  prophets  found  themselves  confronted 
by  the  tradition  that  the  church  has  properly 
nothing  to  do  with  these  problems  of  social  rela- 
tionships. The  separation  of  church  and  state  has 
done  more  than  any  other  one  thing  to  paralyze  the 
churches  as  instruments  of  reform ;  and  thus  robbed 
society  of  the  tremendous  ethical  reinforcement 
which  under  other  circumstances  the  churches 
might  well  have  brought  to  the  task  of  healing 
social  ills. 

It  is  a  heavy  price  which  we  have  paid  for  our 
boon  of  religious  liberty.  The  separation  of  church 
and  state  was  a  step  in  evolution  which  had  to  be 
taken ;  and  when  it  was  achieved,  the  greatest  epoch 
in  history  began.  But  it  is  not  the  final  step. 
Other  things  still  remain  to  be  done  if  man  is  to  be 
truly  free.  Our  task  today  is  certainly  to  conserve 
the  liberty  which  we  have  won,  but  also  to  remedy, 
if  possible,  those  accompanying  weaknesses  and  dis- 
advantages which  its  winning  has  brought  upon  us. 
How  can  the  evil  consequence  of  the  separation  of 
church  and  state  be  obviated,  and  the  liberty  of  the 
individual  soul  be  still  preserved? 


The  answer  to  this  question  is  to  be  found  in  our 
new  interpretation  of  democracy  in  terms  of  fellow- 
ship. What  does  this  mean  to  our  ideas  of  church 
and  state? 


CHUECH  AND  STATE  205 

The  state,  as  it  has  long  been  constituted,  and  is 
still  very  largely  constituted  at  the  present  time, 
may  be  defined  not  unfairly  as  a  private  corpora- 
tion, or  group  of  individuals,  organized  for  the  con- 
trol and  exploitation  of  the  people.  Louis  XIV, 
of  France,  is  the  classic  personification  of  this 
definition.  "L'etat,  c'est  moi''  was  his  proud 
declaration  when  his  rule  of  the  French  people  was 
brought  into  momentary  question.  The  govern- 
ment of  France,  that  is  to  say,  was  his  private  pos- 
session, to  be  utilized  for  the  exploitation  of  the 
French  people  and  to  the  advantage  of  himself  and 
his  underlings.  Thomas  Carlyle  was  referring  to 
this  fact  when  he  drew  the  pathetic  picture  of  "the 
widow  (who)  gathers  nettles  for  her  children's  din- 
ner, and  a  perfumed  seigneur  lunching  in  his 
palace  (who)  hath  an  alchemy  whereby  he  will 
extract  from  her  every  third  nettle  and  call  it  rent." 
Our  American  forefathers  understood  this  concep- 
tion perfectly  when  they  organized  the  Revolution 
against  George  III.  They  knew  that  the  English 
state  was  owned  by  this  monarch,  and  was  used 
against  them  through  the  pretence  of  Stamp  Acts 
and  Navigation  Laws  for  purposes  of  private  rob- 
bery and  exploitation.  So  clearly  did  they  see  this 
fact  that  when  they  sat  down  to  write  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  new  government  which  they  established 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  they  were  moved  pri- 
marily by  a  conception  of  the  state  as  something  to 
be  feared  and  guarded  against.  Every  possible 
means  was  resorted  to  for  taking  away  as  much 


206  NEW   OHUKCHES    FOR   OLD 

power  as  possible  from  the  national  government 
and  distributing  this  power  among  the  several 
states,  and  through  these  states  to  their  indi- 
vidual citizens.  To  this  end,  the  most  elaborate 
system  of  "checks  and  balances''  was  established, 
with  the  idea  of  enabling  any  one  branch  of  the 
government  to  interfere  successfully  with  the  oper- 
ations of  other  branches  and  thus  prevent  them 
automatically  from  controlling  the  people.  They 
had  seen  the  state,  as  in  France,  used  by  feudal 
barons  to  pile  up  riches  and  corruption.  They  had 
seen  the  state,  as  in  England,  owned  and  controlled 
by  landlords  and  merchants  for  the  exclusive  bene- 
fit of  their  private  fortunes.  They  had  seen  the 
state,  as  in  Prussia  and  Eussia,  used  by  a  military 
class  for  purposes  of  war,  conquest  and  military 
glory.  And  these  forefathers  of  ours  did  not  pro- 
pose that  the  state  here  in  America  should  thus  be 
seized  and  employed  against  the  people.  And  they 
builded  better  than  they  knew!  For  since  that 
Constitution  was  written,  the  great  power  of 
modern  capitalism  has  arisen.  Behind  our  visible 
government,  as  Theodore  Roosevelt  taught  us  in  the 
days  of  the  Progressive  Party,  has  gradually  grown 
up  "the  invisible  government"  of  great  manufac- 
turers, industrial  magnates,  corporation  monop- 
olists, which  has  for  years  used  the  state  in  this 
country  as  a  private  machine  for  the  economic 
exploitation  of  the  people.  Throughout  the  whole 
range  of  human  history,  down  to  within  the  last 
hundred  years  of  our  own  time,  the  state  has  thus 


CHUKCH  AND  STATE  207 

been  a  private  corporation,  established  and  main- 
tained for  purposes  of  public  exploitation ;  and  it  is 
the  discovery  of  this  fact  which  has  led  to  the  great 
democratic  revolutions  of  modern  times.  First  in 
the  political  realm  and  now  in  the  economic  realm, 
the  people  have  risen  in  revolt  against  those  who 
have  used  the  state  for  their  private  advantage ;  and 
are  now  proposing  to  take  possession  of  the  state 
for  themselves,  and  use  the  powers  of  this  vast 
machine  for  public  benefit.  It  is  this  work  of 
transforming  the  state  from  a  private  to  a  public 
corporation  which  constitutes  what  we  mean  by  the 
democratization  of  society.  Democracy  is  fellow- 
ship— cooperation  in  the  common  service  of  the 
common  life!  It  signifies  therefore  the  outlawry 
from  the  state  of  the  private  individuals,  kings  and 
monopolists  alike,  who  use  the  state  to  rob  the  people. 
It  means  the  rising  of  the  people  for  the  conquest 
of  the  state  that  it  may  be  shifted  from  private  to 
public  hands  and  thus  devoted  exclusively  to  uni- 
versal human  ends.  That  the  state  may  be  owned 
by  the  people,  controlled  by  the  people,  and  used  for 
the  people  to  the  end  of  fellowship,  is  the  high  pur- 
pose of  every  democratic  movement  of  our  time. 

If  this  be  the  definition  of  the  state  as  it  has 
existed  always  in  the  past,  and  very  largely  still  in 
the  present,  what  shall  we  say  as  to  the  church? 
Has  this  not  also  been  a  private  corporation,  used 
by  private  individuals  for  private  purposes?  There 
can  be  no  question  about  this  fact  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  for  in  those  years  the  Eoman  church  was 


208  NEW   OHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

simply  and  solely  a  vast  machine  for  plunder  and 
exploitation.  There  never  was  a  corporation  more 
closely  bound,  more  selfish,  more  corrupt  than  that 
organization  of  priests  and  prelates  who  owned  the 
papacy  and  handed  it  along  as  a  private  inheritance 
from  one  generation  to  another.  The  Protestant 
Reformation  ended  this  reign  of  iniquity  and 
through  the  establishment  of  innumerable  sects  and 
denominations  delivered  mankind  from  bondage  to 
this  single  ecclesiastical  hierarchy.  But  when  w^e 
look  at  those  Protestant  bodies,  what  do  we  find 
again  but  a  set  of  private  corporations?  These 
churches  are  no  longer  corrupt  in  the  medieval 
sense  of  the  word ;  they  are  most  of  them  moved  by 
a  fine  spirit  of  piety,  and  are  serving  the  cause  of 
God  and  humanity  as  they  truly  understand  it. 
But  they  are  by  nature  institutions  of  private  profit 
rather  than  of  public  service.  Certainly  in  almost 
none  of  them  is  there  any  true  spirit  of  democracy. 
Inside  some  few  of  these  churches  there  are  con- 
ditions of  organization  which  are  democratic,  both 
in  spirit  and  method;  but  the  test  of  democracy  is 
to  be  found  not  inside  the  church  but  at  the  portals 
of  the  church.  What  are  the  conditions  of  admis- 
sion? What  must  a  man  do  to  become  a  member  of 
this  corporation?  Ask  this  question,  and  imme- 
diately it  is  discovered  that  there  are  restrictions 
and  obligations  which  make  it  impossible  for  other 
than  a  comparatively  small  fraction  of  the  body  of 
any  community  to  enter  into  the  life  of  any  single 
church.      Our  American  democracy,  for  example. 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  209 

has  to  all  intents  and  purposes  repudiated  every 
Protestant  church  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  the 
people  have  refused  to  join,  in  any  large  majority, 
these  organizations.  They  insist  that  these 
churches  make  use  of  a  tolerant  democracy  for  the 
service,  in  each  and  every  case,  of  their  own  private 
interests  and  advantages.  Hence  the  attack  upon 
the  church  as  well  as  upon  the  state,  by  the  new 
democratic  spirit  of  our  time !  Just  exactly  as  this 
spirit  is  seizing  upon  the  state,  that  the  state  may 
be  delivered  from  the  hands  of  a  few  and  passed 
over  into  the  hands  of  all,  so  is  this  spirit  making 
ready  to  seize  upon  our  churches  that  they  also  may 
be  delivered  from  the  hands  of  the  few  and  passed 
over  to  the  hands  of  all.  The  purpose  of  the  demo- 
cratic movement  of  our  time  is  fellowship.  Which 
means  the  democratization  of  every  social  unit, 
which  means  in  turn  the  transformation  of  all 
private  corporations  into  public  bodies,  which 
means  again  in  turn  the  mastery  by  the  people  of 
the  social  institutions  which  they  have  created  and 
maintained ! 

VI 

It  is  this  changing  character  both  of  church  and 
state,  under  the  influence  of  the  new  democratic 
spirit,  which  is  destined  to  end  the  separation  of 
church  and  state  as  no  longer  necessary  for  the  pro- 
tection of  religious  liberty  or  for  any  other  noble 
purpose.  A  democratized  state  will  mean  simply 
an  organization  owned  and  controlled  by  the  people 


210  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

for  the  transaction,  in  the  highest  and  most  efficient 
way,  of  social  business.  A  democratized  church 
will  mean  in  the  same  way  an  organization  owned 
and  controlled  by  the  people  for  the  transaction,  in 
the  highest  and  most  efficient  way,  of  spiritual  busi- 
ness. In  both  cases  they  will  be  coordinate 
branches  of  a  single  fellowship  in  which  the  people 
are  at  work  for  the  expression  and  service  of  their 
common  lives.  The  state,  in  other  words,  will  be 
the  community  functioning  politically;  the  church 
will  be  the  community  functioning  spiritually. 
They  will  together  be  coordinate  branches  of  the 
one  all-inclusive  community. 

Take,  for  example,  a  little  town  in  the  northern 
part  of  New  York !  Suppose  we  went  to  this  town 
on  a  certain  Wednesday  night,  when  the  town  meet- 
ing was  being  held.  There  we  would  see  some  two 
or  three  hundred  persons  gathered  together  as  citi- 
zens for  the  consideration  and  transaction  of  the 
social  business  of  the  community.  Now  suppose 
we  stayed  over  in  this  town  until  the  following 
Sunday,  and  went  to  church.  We  would  then  dis- 
cover that  this  town  had  a  single  church  which  was 
not  denominational  but  "community"  in  character. 
The  Methodist,  Baptist,  Universalist  and  Congre- 
gationalist  churches,  which  once  existed  in  the 
town,  have  been  disbanded  and  their  people  have  all 
come  together  into  the  one  common  church.  When 
we  entered  this  gathering  on  the  Sunday  morning 
and  looked  about  us,  we  would  discover  that  we 
.were  in  the  midst  of  exactly  the  same  two  or  three 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  211 

hundred  persons  whom  he  had  seen  in  the  town 
meeting  on  the  previous  Wednesday  night.  This 
church,  in  other  words,  is  simply  the  community 
gathered  together  on  Sunday  morning  for  the 
fostering  of  the  common  religious  life  of  the  people, 
as  the  town  meeting  (the  state)  is  the  community 
gathered  together  on  a  Wednesday  night  for  the 
consideration  of  the  common  political  interests  of 
the  town.  The  members  of  this  church  are  mem- 
bers not  because  they  are  Baptists,  or  Methodists, 
or  Universalists ;  they  are  members  of  the  church 
for  the  same  reason  that  they  are  members  of  the 
town  meeting — because  they  are  citizens!  In  the 
one  place  as  in  the  other,  we  have  an  institution 
belonging  to  all,  used  by  all,  and  directed  to  the 
service  of  all.  The  community  has  found  its  com- 
mon life  through  the  realization  of  that  fellowship 
which  is  at  the  heart  of  democracy,  and  has  built 
these  institutions  of  church  and  state  which  are 
necessary  for  the  service  of  this  life. 

VII 

In  such  an  illustration  do  we  see  what  is  meant 
by  the  union  of  church  and  state  through  the  opera- 
tion of  the  democratic  spirit.  So  long  as  the  state 
is  a  private  corporation,  it  cannot  be  joined  to  the 
church  lest  it  exploit  the  spiritual  needs  of  the 
people  for  private  gain.  So  long  as  the  church  is 
also  a  private  corporation,  it  cannot  be  joined  to  the 
state  le^  it  exploit  the  social  needs  of  the  people  for 


212  NEW  CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

private  gain.  But  when  both  church  and  state 
alike  have  been  transformed  by  the  process  of 
democratization  into  a  free  fellowship  of  the  public 
life,  each  is  joined  to  the  other  by  a  kind  of  divine 
necessity. 

It  is  this  which  brings  us  to  the  crown  and  climax 
of  our  argument,  which  is  the  declaration  of  the 
reunion  of  church  and  state  in  the  democratic  era 
which  is  now  before  us !  Church  and  state  are  to 
be  absorbed,  so  that  the  one  shall  be  indistinguish- 
able from  the  other.  This  does  not  mean  that  the 
church  shall  absorb  the  state,  or  that  the  state  shall 
absorb  the  church.  It  means  rather  that  church 
and  state  alike  shall  he  absorbed  by  the  community. 
They  shall  be  reunited  not  by  directly  joining  the 
one  to  the  other,  but  by  joining  both  to  that  common 
life  of  the  people  of  which  they  are  each  the  expres- 
sion. The  state,  in  any  true  fellowship  of  democ- 
racy, is  simply  the  people  working  out  the  problems 
of  social  life.  The  church,  in  any  similar  fellow- 
ship of  democracy,  is  again  the  people  working  out 
the  problems  of  spiritual  life.  We  are  leaving 
behind  us  our  worn  out  and  corrupt  institutions. 
We  are  ending  the  reign  of  individuals  or  groups 
of  individuals.  We  are  bringing  in  the  day  of  the 
people.  And  in  and  through  the  people  shall  the 
social  institutions,  most  conspicuously  church  and 
state,  be  joined  together  for  the  service  of  what  the 
people  want  and  need. 

Zechariah  had  the  vision  of  what  we  are  now 
dreaming  when  he  saw  the  "man  with  the  measur- 


CHURCH  AND  STATE  213 

ing  line  in  his  hand"  preparing  to  measure  Jerusa- 
lem, "And  behold,  another  angel  went  out  to  meet 
him,"  who  proclaimed  unto  him  that  Jerusalem 
should  be  a  city  without  walls,  "for  Jehovah  will 
be  unto  her  a  wall  of  fire  roundabout  and  ...  be 
the  glory  in  the  midst  of  her.''^  St.  John,  on 
Patmos,  saw  something  of  the  same  thing  when  he 
beheld  the  New  Jerusalem  "coming  down  out  of 
heaven  from  God."  And  he  also  saw  one  who  was 
about  to  measure  the  city.  And  when  he  looked 
upon  the  city,  he  tells  us  that  "he  saw  no  temple 
therein;  for  the  Lord  God  (was)  the  temple 
thereof."^  Here,  from  Old  Testament  prophet  and 
New  Testament  seer,  is  the  picture  given  of  that 
"holy  city"  which  is  the  city  of  the  Lord.  The 
city — that  is  the  temple;  the  presence  of  God,  the 
light  and  glory  of  the  city !  State  is  become  church ; 
church  is  become  state;  the  people  are  God,  and 
God  is  the  people !  Needed  no  longer  are  our  old 
divisions  and  distinctions,  for  the  freedom  of  the 
one  is  sanctioned  by  the  fellowship  of  all,  and  the 
glory  of  God's  presence  become  the  salvation  of 
mankind. 


1  Zechariah  II, 

2  Revelation  XXI. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  COMMUNITY  CHURCH :  PRINCIPLES 


"It  must  be  done,  sir!  It  must  be  done!  Our  re- 
ligion has  been  Judaized,  it  has  been  Romanized,  it  has 
been  Orientalized,  it  has  been  Anglicized,  and  the  time  is 
at  hand  when  it  must  be  Americanized  1  Now,  sir,  you 
see  what  Americanizing  is  in  politics;  it  means  that 
a  man  shall  have  a  vote  because  he  is  a  man.  .  .  . 
Just  so  a  man's  soul  has  a  vote  in  the  spiritual  com- 
munity; and  it  doesn't  do,  sir,  or  it  won't  do  long,  to 
call  him  ^schismatic'  and  ^heretic'  and  those  other  wicked 
names  that  the  murderous  Inquisitors  have  left  us  to 
help  along  ^peace  and  goodwill  to  men.' 

"It  won't  be  long,  sir,  before  we  have  Americanized 
religion  as  we  have  Americanized  government,  and  then, 
sir,  every  soul  God  sends  into  the  world  will  be  good  in 
the  face  of  all  men  for  just  so  much  of  his  inspiration  as 
'giveth  him  understanding.' " 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  in 

The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast  Table 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES 


Our  argument  brings  us  at  last  to  the  threshold 
of  the  new  church  which  shall  be  the  institutional 
embodiment  of  our  new  religion  of  democracy.  We 
have  seen  the  collapse  which  has  come  upon  the 
Protestant  churches^  because  of  that  reaction  from 
the  liberating  influences  of  the  Renaissance,  which 
has  ended  in  the  intolerance,  trivialities  and  basic 
private  interests  of  the  denominational  order.^ 
Coincident  with  this,  we  have  seen  that  great  move- 
ment of  democracy  springing  first  from  the  influ- 
ences of  the  Reformation,  and  then  breaking  loose 
from  the  bonds  of  Protestantism,  and  sweeping  on 
from  the  attainment  of  liberty  to  that  farther  goal 
of  fellowship  which  is  the  "coefficient''  and  thus  the 
guarantee  of  liberty.^  That  this  democracy  in  its 
political,  economic  and  social  phases  is  itself  the 
true  religion  of  modern  times,  the  definite  fulfill- 
ment of  the  gospel  of  the  Nazarene  prophet,  we 
have  found  in  that  new  basis  of  religion  uncovered 
by  the  revolutionary  upheavals  of  the  Renaissance, 


^  See  Chapter  I. 
»See  Chapter  II. 
•See  Chapter  III. 

217 


218  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

the  Illumination  and  later  periods  of  intellectual 
and  spiritual  awakening.^  The  implications  of  this 
discovery  we  have  traced  out  in  the  relations  of  the 
sacred  and  secular/  the  individual  and  society,^ 
church  and  state,*  as  definite  religious  problems. 
The  conclusion  brings  us  to  a  concept  of  a  society 
of  free  men,  dedicated  to  the  end  of  fellowship, 
developing  out  of  its  own  needs  and  for  the  service 
of  its  own  purposes,  those  native  institutions  which 
are  the  incarnation  of  its  life.  The  state,  the 
school — and  now  at  last  the  church ! 

This  new  church  has  been  anticipated,  in  one 
incidental  feature  or  another,  by  nearly  all  the 
progressive  religious  movements  of  our  time,  for 
these  have  been  feeling  their  way  more  or  less 
unconsciously  toward  the  attainment  of  that  very 
goal  which  seems  now  to  be  at  hand.  Thus  the 
new  church  of  democracy  is  like  all  union  and 
federated  churches  ^  in  reacting  against  the  denom- 
inational divisions  of  Christendom.  It  shares  with 
institutional  churches^  their  emphasis  upon  the 
social  aspects  of  religion.  It  is  at  one  with  Uni- 
tarian and  other  liberal  groups^  in  freedom  from 
dogma,  reliance  upon  reason  as  the  guide  to  truth, 
and  insistence  upon  the  worth  of  the  life  that  now 
is.  It  follows  the  Positivist  movement  of  Auguste 
Comte,®  which  made  so  stirring  an  appeal  to  the 

1  See  Chapter  IV. 

2  See  Chapter  V. 
•See  Chapter  VI. 
*See  Chapter  VII. 
"See  Page  68. 

•  See  Page  70. 

»See  Pages     67,  122.  159,  16©. 

•See  Page  122. 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  219 

leading  intelligences  of  Victorian  England,  in  its 
reverence  for  the  scientific  method  and  its  delib- 
erate exaltation  of  humanity.  It  sees  in  the 
Ethical  Culture  Society  ^  a  forerunner  in  such  vital 
matters  as  the  rejection  of  creeds  as  a  bond  of 
union  and  the  interpretation  of  life  exclusively  in 
terms  of  moral  idealism. 

Furthermore,  this  new  church  of  the  new  democ- 
racy is  like  all  churches  in  possessing  those  spe- 
cific functions  which  distinguish  a  church  per  se 
from  other  social  institutions.  It  is  no  mere 
secular  agency.  It  is  a  church  in  the  sense  that 
it  assembles  the  people  on  Sunday  mornings  for 
fellowship  and  communion  in  the  high  things  of 
the  spirit.  It  is  a  church  in  the  sense  that  its 
ministers  teach  and  preach,  and  thus  lead  the 
public  counsels  to  heights  of  vision  and  under- 
standing. It  is  a  church  in  the  sense  that  it  sol- 
emnizes matrimony,  christens  little  children,  invests 
with  dignity  the  last  rites  of  the  dead,  and  thus 
sanctifies  in  every  way  the  permanent  relation- 
ships of  human  life.  It  is  a  church  in  the  sense 
that  it  serves  as  a  school  of  moral  idealism,  a 
refuge  from  hardship  and  distress,  a  fountain  of 
good  works,  a  power-house  for  the  generation  of 
spiritual  energy.  It  is  a  church  in  a  thousand  dif- 
ferent ways  in  which  men  have  understood  and 
supported  churches  from  the  beginning  of  the 
world. 

Yet  is  this  church  as  new  as  the  socia?  democracy 


1  See  Pages  122,  159. 


220  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

in  which  it  has  its  origin !  Apart  from  the  funda- 
mental features  of  religious  expression  which  are 
universal,  this  church  represents  a  complete  re- 
versal of  all  former  values,  a  new  beginning  in  the 
field  of  spiritual  organization.  Other  churches  are 
churches  J  in  the  old  traditional  sense  of  being  insti- 
tions  apart  for  the  salvation  of  mankind.  The 
most  progressive  of  them  represent  only  cautious 
and  uncompleted  adaptations  to  the  idea  of  man 
himself,  preeminently  in  his  social  relationship, 
as  the  source  of  spiritual  experience  and  hence 
the  seat  of  spiritual  authority.  But  this  church 
is  di£ferent!  It  is  not  a  church  at  all,  in  the  old 
sense  of  the  word.  It  is  itself  the  community^ 
functioning  in  this  instance  spiritually,  as  in  other 
instances  it  functions  politically  or  educationally. 
For  this  reason  we  call  it  the  Community  Church, 
and  define  it  in  terms  of  its  character  as  an  expres- 
sion of  community  idealism. 

II 

The  Community  Church  is  first  of  all  to  be 
described  as  undenominational.  In  this  particular 
it  offers  the  sharpest  kind  of  contrast  to  the  exist- 
ing churches  which  it  is  so  surely  destined  to  sup- 
plant. These  churches,  as  we  have  seen,  are  de- 
nominational institutions.  They  are  identified  pri- 
marily, that  is,  with  a  certain  historical  movement 
in  theological  thought  or  ecclesiastical  organiza- 
tion, and  only  secondarily  with  those  basic  commu- 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  221 

nity  or  social  interests  which  comprise  the  funda- 
mental life  of  the  people.  Thus  as  we  walk  the 
streets  of  any  city  or  town,  and  look  at  the  churches 
which  we  pass,  we  observe  that  this  church  is 
Methodist,  that  that  church  is  Presbyterian,  that 
this  other  church  is  Unitarian  or  Christian  Sci- 
ence, and  so  on  through  all  the  long  catalogue  of 
Protestant  sects.  Each  church,  in  other  words, 
is  a  representative  in  the  community  of  a  certain 
organized  religious  movement  which  had  its  origin 
in  a  more  or  less  remote  age,  perhaps  in  a  foreign 
country,  and  which  has  its  headquarters,  so-called, 
in  another  city  and  sometimes  even  in  another  land. 
It  stands  here  not  as  something  which  has  grown 
up  out  of  the  community  from  within,  as  a  spiritual 
expression  of  community  life,  but  as  something 
which  has  been  imposed  upon  the  community  from 
without,  as  an  expression  of  a  form  of  thought  and 
a  way  of  life  which  may  be  as  alien  as  the  philoso- 
phies of  India  or  Peru. 

What  has  actually  taken  place  a  thousand  times 
in  new  communities  established  on  the  frontier,  or 
in  new  suburban  or  residential  districts  opened  up 
on  the  outskirts  of  a  great  city,  is  an  illustration 
of  what  we  mean.  Immediately  after  the  people 
have  begun  to  plant  their  homes  in  this  community, 
the  denominational  representatives  or  field-secre- 
taries begin  to  appear,  along  with  merchants,  drug- 
gists and  real-estate  agents ;  and  each  one  proceeds 
to  set  up  his  own  particular  place  of  ecclesiastical 
business,  and  engage  in  feverish  competition  with 


222  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

his  rivals  for  business.  To  the  extent  that  he  suc- 
ceeds in  his  work,  he  draws  off  little  groups  of 
people  from  the  general  life  of  the  community, 
and  identifies  them  religiously  with  interests  which 
lie  almost  wholly  outside  the  boundaries  of  the 
locality  in  which  they  live.  The  nearest  that  any 
of  these  denominational  churches  ever  comes  to 
growing  up  naturally  out  of  the  community,  is 
when  a  few  townspeople  come  together  of  their 
own  accord,  and  undertake  to  organize  a  Bap- 
tist or  a  Methodist  institution  as  an  expression 
of  the  theological  views  and  purposes  which 
they  hold  in  common.  But  even  in  this  case,  we 
have  people  going  outside  the  community  for  help 
and  association,  and  imposing  upon  the  commu- 
nity, as  an  agent  of  propaganda,  an  institution 
which  nobody  wants  but  themselves. 

The  denominational  church  in  any  city  or  town 
is  thus  not  only  divisive,  but  dispersive  in  its  influ- 
ence. It  comes  into  and  abides  in  a  community, 
frequently  supported  by  outside  capital,  for  the 
purpose  of  converting  the  people  to  some  peculiar 
brand  of  religious  thought;  and  when  it  has  done 
this  in  the  case  of  a  few  scores,  it  proceeds  forth- 
with to  separate  these  men  and  women  from  their 
neighbors,  and  identify  their  interests  with  those 
of  an  outside  and  perhaps  very  alien  organization. 
Thus  the  members  of  a  denominational  church 
enjoy  fellowship  not  primarily  with  their  fellow- 
townsmen  whom  they  know,  and  with  whom  they 
are  associated  in  every  other  social  activity,  but 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  223 

with  their  fellow-Baptists  or  Episcopalians  or 
Greek  Orthodox  in  some  other  part  of  the  country 
or  the  world,  whom  they  do  not  know,  and  with 
whom  otherwise  they  are  not  in  contact.  As  a  Uni- 
tarian clergyman,  for  example,  in  a  Massachusetts 
town,  I  was  associated  in  spiritual  fellowship  not 
with  my  Congregational  neighbor  whom  I  saw 
daily,  and  with  whom  I  worked  intimately  in  other 
community  affairs,  but  with  Unitarian  clergymen 
in  Seattle,  or  Moosejaw,  or  Kalamazoo,  whom  I  met 
not  at  all,  or  casually  at  some  church  conference. 
My  church  had  for  more  than  three-quarters  of  a 
century  enjoyed  an  intimacy  with  denominational 
headquarters  in  Boston,  which  it  had  never  en- 
joyed with  its  nearest  neighbor,  the  Baptist  church, 
located  just  across  the  street.  For  the  first  alle- 
giance of  a  denominational  church  is  not  to  its 
community  but  to  its  denomination!  It  deliber- 
ately cuts  through  the  life  of  the  community,  and 
thus  divides  upon  religious  lines  a  citizenry  which 
is  otherwise  united. 

Now  it  is  just  this  division,  or  dispersion,  of 
religious  life  which  the  Community  Church,  faith- 
ful to  its  name,  seeks  earnestly  to  avoid.  The  Com- 
munity Church  sets  itself  apart  from  all  other 
churches  as  they  exist  today,  primarily  because 
it  accepts  as  the  basis  of  its  organization  no  denom- 
inational affiliation  of  any  kind,  but  simply  and 
solely  the  community  in  which  it  stands.  It  comes 
into  being  not  as  something  imposed  upon  a  town 
from  without,  but  as  a  natural  and  spontaneous 


224  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

outgrowth  of  the  life  of  the  town  itself;  and  it 
represents  not  the  particular  ecclesiastical  inter- 
ests of  any  outside  organization,  but  those  uni- 
versal human  interests  which  bind  the  people  of 
a  town  together  as  members  of  the  same  commu- 
nity. It  holds  the  same  relation  to  a  town  or  city, 
as  regards  its  origin  and  character,  as  any  other 
public  institution.  When  a  new  community  is 
established,  and  the  citizens  come  together  to 
organize  their  common  life,  they  establish  a  public 
school,  a  public  library,  a  social  or  community 
center;  and  some  time  also  they  will  establish  a 
public,  or  community,  church!  All  of  these  insti- 
tutions, the  church  exactly  like  the  school,  belong 
properly  to  the  people,  serve  the  people,  and 
express  the  democratic  aspirations  of  the  people. 
They  are  works  of  fellowship ;  and  are  true  to  their 
appointed  function  only  as  they  express  and  serve 
ideals  of  fellowship. 

It  is  because  of  its  identification  in  this  way  with 
the  general  interests  of  community  life  that  the 
Community  Church  is  called  a  community  church, 
and  not  a  Baptist,  or  Presbyterian,  or  Universalist 
church.  It  is  a  community  church  because  it  draws 
its  life  directly  and  exclusively  from  the  commu- 
nity in  which  it  is  placed.  It  is  a  community 
church  because  it  turns  back  into  the  community, 
in  forms  of  leadership  and  public  service,  the  life 
which  it  has  thus  developed.  Its  influence  is  not 
dispersive,  but  concentrative.  It  gathers  all  the 
people  of  a  single  community  into  a  single  organi- 


COMMUNITY  CHUKCH :  PRINCIPLES  225 

zation  of  this  community,  and  dedicates  them  pri- 
marily to  the  welfare  of  this  community.  Its  mem- 
bers pledge  no  allegiance,  and  seek  no  end,  but 
that  of  the  community  in  which  they  live  and  those 
ever  widening  concentric  circles  of  community  life 
of  which  the  local  community  is  the  beginning.  Of 
course  as  the  community  church  movement  devel- 
ops, there  will  be  many  community  churches  in 
many  cities  and  towns;  and  in  the  larger  cities, 
there  will  be  different  community  churches  in  dif- 
ferent neighborhoods.  These  churches  will  be  cer- 
tain to  seek  association  with  one  another  in  some 
form  of  fellowship  and  brotherhood.  But  this  fel- 
lowship will  never  be  a  denomination;  will  never 
seek  to  impose  itself  upon  any  community;  and 
will  never  draw  to  itself  that  primary  devotion  of 
the  individual  member,  which  properly  belongs  to 
the  community  alone.  The  people  of  a  neighbor- 
hood, gathered  together  in  a  church  for  work  and 
worship,  as  their  children  are  gathered  together 
in  a  school  for  education — ^this  is  the  first  picture 
of  the  Community  Church  which  we  would  present. 
Incidentally,  also,  it  may  be  said  that  this  is 
the  one  idea  which  offers  any  prospect  of  a  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  of  denominationalism.  Patheti- 
cally strenuous  efforts  are  now  being  made  on  every 
hand,  as  we  have  seen,  to  end  the  scandal  of  secta- 
rian division.  The  cry  of  "church  unity"  is  heard 
today  more  often  than  any  other  slogan.  Confer- 
ences are  being  held,  organizations  formed,  pro- 
grams formulated,  all  to  the  end  of.  briuging  to- 


226  NEW  CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

gether  into  a  single  body  the  churches  which  have 
so  long  been  severed  from  one  another.  Nothing, 
however,  seems  to  be  accomplished,  for  what  should 
be  the  obvious  reason  that  the  only  basis  proposed 
by  anybody  inside  the  churches  for  their  reunion, 
is  that  congeries  of  theological  ideas  and  purposes 
which  has  from  the  beginning  been  their  occasion 
of  division.  What  is  needed  is  a  wholly  new  basis 
of  organization,  a  unit  of  integration  altogether 
outside  the  area  of  old-time  controversy  and  intol- 
erance. And  where  can  this  be  found  save  in  that 
community  which  is  now  gathering  to  itself  all 
the  activities  of  our  modern  social  democracy?  We 
shall  get  rid  of  denominationalism,  with  all  its 
waste,  inefficiency  and  unbrotherliness,  only  when 
we  have  resolutely  shifted  the  center  of  gravity 
in  religion  from  theology  to  life,  from  the  church 
to  society. 

Ill 

If  we  turn  back  now  to  the  type  of  church  with 
which  we  are  ordinarily  familiar,  we  discover  that 
a  second  characteristic  is  its  nature  as  a  private, 
in  contrast  to  a  public,  institution.  This  church 
stands  in  the  community  as  the  representative  of 
a  certain  kind  of  theology,  a  certain  habit  of  wor- 
ship, or  even  a  certain  spirit  or  point  of  view  in 
matters  religious.  As  such  it  is  supported  and 
governed  as  a  private  corporation  for  the  propa- 
gation of  a  private  kind  of  theology,  or  worship, 
or  point  of  view.    Every  attempt,  of  course,  is  made 


COMMUNITY  CHUKCH:  PEINCIPLES  227 

to  reach  the  public,  and  the  church  has  every  ap- 
pearance of  being  a  genuinely  public  institution. 
Thus  it  opens  its  doors  freely  on  Sunday  mornings, 
welcomes  all  who  would  come  to  its  services  of 
worship,  and  usually  today  places  free  seats  at 
their  disposal.  Furthermore  it  makes  a  practice 
of  inviting  the  public  to  join  its  ranks,  and  thus 
assumes  a  fine  and  usually  sincere  attitude  of 
democratic  hospitality.  But  the  test  of  a  church's 
character  in  this  regard  is  the  organization  not 
of  its  congregation  but  of  its  membership.  When 
we  come  to  the  question  of  actually  "joining  a 
church,"  as  it  is  called,  we  find  at  once  that  there 
are  conditions  of  admission.  These  conditions 
may  involve  acceptance  of  a  creed,  confession  of 
faith  in  Christ  Jesus,  conformity  to  prescribed 
practices  of  worship,  in  general,  sympathy  with 
certain  theological  or  spiritual  habits  of  mind. 
They  may  be  said  to  run  these  days  all  the  way 
from  the  most  rigid  tenets  of  orthodoxy  to  the  more 
tenuous  and  intangible  principles  of  liberalism.  In 
essence,  however,  they  all  mean  the  same  thing — 
that  u  candidate  for  membership  must  "belong'^ 
before  he  can  be  received.  The  church,  in  other 
words,  is  exactly  like  a  club — i.  e.,  a  private  insti- 
tution controlled  by  a  private  group  of  persons 
for  the  service  of  private  interests.  In  this,  there 
is  nothing  illegitimate ;  a  club  is  a  perfectly  proper 
type  of  organization  in  a  democracy.  But  a  club, 
be  it  said,  is  a  club^  whether  it  be  religious  or 
secular  in  character,  and  is  not  to  be  confused 


228  KEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

with  a  church  which  should  include  the  whole  and 
not  a  fragment  of  the  community. 

The  inevitably  private  character  of  the  churches 
we  know  today,  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  cen- 
turies of  tradition  have  taught  us  to  regard  re- 
ligion as  a  private  afifair.  We  look  upon  it  as  a 
matter  which  concerns  the  individual — what  is 
more,  concerns  those  intimate  inner  experiences  of 
an  individual's  life  into  which  no  other  person  is 
able,  or  should  properly  be  willing,  to  intrude. 
What  is  more  natural,  therefore,  than  that  religion 
should  be  held  apart  from  the  public  gaze,  and  pro- 
tected by  'Shrines  and  sanctuaries?  What  more 
can  we  ask  than  that  devout  souls,  who  have  organ- 
ized a  temple  for  the  cherishing  of  their  own  par- 
ticular faith,  shall  be  willing  to  share  it  with  others 
on  terms  which  will  guarantee  its  security  from 
profanation?  If  the  church  is  thus  a  private  insti- 
tution, it  is  only  because  religion  is  by  its  very 
nature  a  private  experience.  To  ask  a  church  to 
be  public,  in  the  sense  that  a  school  or  community 
center,  for  example,  is  public,  is  to  ask  it  to  be  some- 
thing less,  or  at  least  other,  than  it  is. 

With  this  interpretation  of  religion,  as  applied 
to  the  problem  of  its  social  organization,  the  Com- 
munity Church  takes  decisive  issue.  What  is  es- 
sential in  religion,  it  declares,  is  not  what  is 
peculiar  to  this  or  that  individual  life,  but  what 
is  common  to  all.  Religion  is  a  universal  instinct 
of  the  soul.     It  is  "the  property  of  every  liuman 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  229 

being/'  says  William  Ellery  Channing/  Rooted 
deep  in  the  soul  of  human  nature,  it  is  rightly  to 
be  described  as  a  racial  characteristic.  Men  are 
in  nothing  so  much  alike  as  in  their  experience  of 
religion,  unless  it  be  in  their  search  for  fellowship 
on  the  basis  of  this  experience.  It  is  this  search 
which  produced  the  church,  which  "grew,"  says 
Channing  again,  "out  of  the  principles  and  feel- 
ings of  human  nature.  Our  nature  is  social.  We 
cannot  live  alone.  We  cannot  shut  up  any  great 
feeling  in  our  hearts.  We  seek  for  others  to  par- 
take it  with  us.  ...  In  this  law  of  our  nature 
the  church  has  its  origin."^  Religion,  in  other 
words,  is  "the  most  social  of  all  our  sentiments.'^ 
The  church,  therefore,  is  properly  to  be  regarded 
as  the  community,  or  the  common  life,  functioning 
m  the  higher  ranges  of  its  endeavor;  and  any 
church  which  is  faithful  to  the  impulse  which  pro- 
duced it,  must  by  that  very  token  be  universal. 

It  is  this  which  makes  the  Community  Church 
to  be  distinctively  a  public  institution.  It  refuses 
to  take  on  the  aspects  oi  a  club,  or  a  chapel,  or  a 
guarded  shrine;  rather  does  it  seek  analogy  with 
the  public  school,  the  public  library,  the  social 
center,  or  the  courts  of  law.  Today  in  spirit,  to- 
morrow in  legal  fact,  this  church  belongs  to  the 
people,  for  them  to  use  as  their  own.  The  Commu- 
nity Church,  in  other  words,  makes  its  member- 
ship coincident  with  citizenship  in  the  community 
in  which  it  is  planted.    It  has  no  terms  of  admis- 


1  See  sermon  on  "  Spiritual  Freedom  "  in  Works ^  page  179. 
'  See  sermon  on  "  The  Church  "  In  Works j  page  431. 


230  NEW  CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

sion  to  its  fellowship,  theological  or  otherwise. 
Any  man  or  woman  who  is  a  citizen,  or  even  a  resi- 
dent, of  the  community,  is  by  virtue  of  that  one 
fact  alone  a  member  of  the  church.  He  is  as  free 
to  come  to  the  church  and  exercise  his  rights  of 
membership,  as  he  is  free  to  take  his  child  to  the 
public  school  to  receive  the  advantages  of  an  educa- 
tion, or  himself  to  go  to  the  library  to  read  its 
books,  or  to  the  ballot-box  to  cast  his  vote.  Every 
man,  of  course,  will  not  want  to  exercise  his  right 
of  membership  in  the  Community  Church,  as  every 
man  does  not  choose  to  exercise  his  rights  of  citi- 
zenship in  the  state.  This  is  a  matter  of  individual 
choice.  The  point  is  that  any  man  who  wants  to 
do  so,  can  do  so.  Nobody  can  say  him  nay.  If  he 
is  excluded  from  the  church,  he  must  exclude 
himself. 

The  Community  Church  is  thus  the  community 
functioning  spiritually.  It  is  democracy  expressing 
itself  socially  in  terms  of  moral  and  spiritual  ideal- 
ism. It  is  the  people  at  work  together  in  the  realm 
of  their  own  souls.  It  is  this  conception  which 
brings  us  face  to  face  with  the  prospect  of  the 
reunion  of  c^hurch  and  state;  but  in  this  there  is 
no  peril,  as  we  have  seen,  provided  that  the  state 
is  free,  and  the  church  unbound  by  theological 
dogmas  or  ecclesiastical  tyrannies.  \Says  Prof. 
Durant  Drake,  of  Vassar  College,  "The  union  of 
church  and  state  was  dangerous  so  long  as  the 
church  was  autocratic  and  dogmatic;  make  it 
democratic,  a  federation  of  free  local  organizations; 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  231 

make  it  undogmatic,  a  place  where  thought  may 
be  free  and  fearless,  and  we  can  again  let  it  become 
an  institution  belonging  to  the  community  as  a 
whole.''^ 

lY 

This  brings  us  to  a  third  point  of  definition! 
The  churches,  as  we  know  them  today,  are  identi- 
fied with  some  kind  of  creed,  or  statement  of  belief, 
which  constitutes  an  essential  part  of  their  organ- 
ized life.  They  take  pains  to  indicate  their  con- 
viction that  theology,  to  some  extent  or  other,  is 
a  necessary  constituent  of  religion.  Thus  most 
churches  have  elaborate  creeds,  and  offer  these  as 
a  condition  of  admission  to  their  fellowship.  In 
recent  years,  especially  in  the  so-called  liberal 
churches,  these  creeds  have  largely  been  done  away 
with ;  but  even  here  there  is  left  an  affirmation  or 
understanding  which  would  exclude  from  fellow- 
ship any  member  of  the  community  who  was  an 
atheist  or  non-Christian.  Even  those  radical 
churches,  which  have  freed  themselves  from  all 
theological  bonds,  have  gone  to  the  other  extreme 
of  setting  up  a  structure  of  denial  which  is  as 
exclusive  as  any  of  the  creeds  of  Christendom. 
The  so-called  People's  Churches,  which  sprang  up 
in  the  days  of  the  free-thought  controversy,  were 
so  dogmatic  in  their  repudiation  of  every  accepted 
doctrine  of  Christian  faith,  that  it  was  quite  im- 
possible   for    any    conservative    person    to    enjoy^ 

1  See  his  book,  Shall  We  Stand  hy  the  Church?  page  151. 


232  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

fellowship  among  their  members.  Thus  either 
positively  or  negatively,  theology  has  intruded,  and 
has  made  the  church  a  partisan  of  orthodox,  lib- 
eral, or  radical  interpretations  of  religious  thought. 
Now  the  Community  Church  divorces  itself  abso- 
lutely from  theology  and  the  theological  point  of 
view.  Neither  the  acceptance  nor  the  rejection  of 
a  creed  is  recognized  as  having  any  significance. 
What  a  man  believes  or  does  not  believe  is  a  matter 
of  no  concern  to  the  church  as  a  churchy  for  the- 
ology in  all  its  aspects,  both  positive  and  negative, 
has  no  place  in  the  life  of  the  institution.  Theology 
belongs  properly  to  the  individual,  who  must  be- 
lieve something  about  the  universe  in  which  he 
lives,  and  must  formulate  his  beliefs  into  some 
kind  of  a  theology.  But  a  church  as  such  cannot 
have  such  a  theology,  save  as  a  group  of  individuals 
impose  their  ideas  upon  their  fellows,  or  all  of 
them  together  engage  in  the  nefarious  business  of 
compromise  for  the  sake  of  an  agreement.  The- 
ology, by  which  we  mean  religious  philosophy,  has 
no  more  place  in  the  church  than  political  phi- 
losophy in  the  state.  What  would  we  think,  for 
example,  if  men  should  suddenly  undertake  to 
impose  the  creed  of  the  Republican  Party  upon 
the  nation,  to  the  end  that  all  citizens  would  have 
to  be  Republicans  as  a  condition  of  retaining  their 
citizenship?  What  did  we  think  when,  in  New 
York  State  in  1920,  attempt  was  made  to  identify 
the  commonwealth  with  the  orthodox  political 
philosophy    of   the    Democratic    and    Republican 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  23^ 

parties,  to  the  extent  at  least  that  Socialists  were 
not  allowed  to  send  their  chosen  representatives 
to  the  Assembly  at  Albany?  Such  an  act,  of 
course,  we  recognize  in  our  sober  moments  as  a 
flat  betrayal  of  the  ideals  of  our  national  life. 
America  is  not  a  Republican,  or  a  Democratic, 
or  a  Socialistic  state.  It  is  altogether  outside  of 
existing  philosophies  of  politics.  Individual  men 
can  be  Republicans,  Democrats,  or  Socialists,  if 
they  will;  but  the  state  itself  can  know  no  party. 
The  essence  of  democracy  is  the  free  spirit — the 
right  of  every  citizen,  without  jeopardizing  his 
citizenship,  to  think  as  he  will  upon  matters  politi- 
cal ;  and  the  incarnation  of  this  spirit  in  universal 
fellowship. 

The  application  of  this  principle  to  the  church 
involves  the  relegation  of  all  matters  of  theology 
where  they  properly  belong — to  the  unfettered 
thought  and  conviction  of  the  individual.  What 
holds  the  members  of  the  Community  Church  to- 
gether is  not  identity  of  belief  on  any  religious 
issue — not  the  doctrine  of  the  soul,  nor  the  hope 
of  immortality,  nor  even  the  concept  of  a  Divine 
Being;  but  the  sense  of  a  common  need,  the  desire 
for  common  welfare,  the  consciousness  of  mem- 
bership one  with  another  in  all  the  things  of  life. 
If  a  man  is  a  citizen  of  the  community,  we  have 
said,  he  is  by  reason  of  that  fact  a  member  of  the 
churdh.  It  would  be  as  absurd  and  unjust  to  shut 
him  out  because  he  is  a  materialist,  a  theosophist, 
a  spiritualist,  a  Unitarian,  or  a  Methodist,  as  it 


234  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

would  be  to  exclude  him  from  society  because  he 
is  a  Republican  or  a  Socialist.  The  Community 
Church,  like  the  democratic  state,  is  inclusive. 
Membership  in  the  one,  like  citizenship  in  the  other, 
is  extended  to  all  on  the  basis  not  of  ideas  but  of 
human  nature.  Which  means  again  that  the  Com- 
munity Church  is  the  community! 


A  fourth  point  of  importance  in  the  definition 
of  the  Community  Church  is  its  social  character 
and  purpose.  Religion,  as  we  have  seen,  is  essen- 
tially social  in  its  nature.  It  has  its  origin  in  the 
sympathies  of  men,  in  their  passion  for  one  an- 
other. Yet  are  the  traditional  churches  all  about 
us  preeminently  individualistic  in  temper.  In  this 
the  liberal  churches  are  identical  with  the  ortho- 
dox, for  while  the  former  have  indeed  substituted 
ethical  for  theological  standards  of  activity,  yet 
like  the  latter  they  still  make  the  individual  soul 
the  prime  object  of  concern,  and  in  the  cultural 
perfection  of  the  soul,  find  the  attainment  of 
their  end. 

The  Community  Church,  per  contra^  substitutes 
the  social  group  for  the  separate  individual.  It 
interprets  religion  primarily  in  terms  of  social 
reconstruction,  and  dedicates  its  members  pri- 
marily to  the  fulfillment  of  social  idealism.  So 
distinctive  to  the  community  church  movement 
of  our  time  is  this  note  of  creative  service  in  so- 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  235 

cietj,  that  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  churches 
described  as  "community  churches''  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  they  accept  community  or  social 
welfare  as  the  first  article  of  their  creed,  and 
develop  social  machinery  for  the  practice  of  their 
faith.^  Much  more  than  this  is  required,  as  we 
are  just  now  seeing,  to  make  a  genuine  and  fully- 
developed  community  church;  but  this  aspect  of 
social  consciousness  and  activity  is  none  the  less 
indispensable.  No  church  which  lacks  the  social 
vision  can  qualify  as  a  community  church.  Any 
church  which  catches  this  social  vision,  is  to  that 
extent  already  become  a  community  church.  Pro- 
grams of  social  change,  therefore,  rather  than 
methods  of  individual  regeneration,  take  first  place 
in  the  life  of  this  type  of  church.  It  seeks  pri- 
marily to  save  society  whic^h  is  "the  one  body," 
and  the  individual  only  as  a  "member''  of  this 
"body."  Thus  does  it  mark  its  recognition  of  the 
transition  in  religion  from  theology  to  sociology, 
and  its  acceptance  of  that  humanistic  interpre- 
tation of  life  which  is  the  basis  of  this  religion! 


VI 

A  final  question  pertains  to  the  relation  of  the 
Community  Church  to  Christianity.  Is  the  Com- 
munity Church  a  Christian  church,  like  the 
churches  with  which  we  are  familiar;  or  does  it 


^ "  The  Community  Church  includes  any  church  which  maintains 
an  adequate  program  of  service  for  the  community  as  a  whole " — 
Orrin  W.  Auman,  in  The  Community  Churchman^  July  1921. 


236  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

put  Christianity  away  and  seek  to  present  itself 
as  not  merely  an  undenominational,  but  a  universal 
church? 

In  answer  to  this  inquiry,  it  must  be  stated  that 
the  overwhelming  majority  of  community  churches 
which  are  appearing  today,  are  Christian  churches. 
This  is  an  inevitable  corollary  of  the  fact,  so  often 
cited  in  these  pages,  that  the  Community  Church 
is  to  be  understood  fundamentally  as  that  type  of 
religious  institution  which  exists  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  organized  expression  to  the  spiritual  life 
of  the  society  in  the  midst  of  which  it  is  placed. 
It  is  first  and  foremost  the  community  seeking  to 
express  and  organize  itself  in  terms  of  religious 
experience.  In  this  sense  the  Community  Church 
must  represent,  in  the  beginning  at  least,  that 
which  is  already  present  in  the  hearts  and  minds 
of  the  people  who  comprise  the  community.  In 
addition,  of  course,  it  attempts  to  develop,  as  well 
as  to  express,  the  higher  realities  of  the  spiritual 
life.  But  the  Community  Church  is  distinctive 
from  all  other  churches  in  this  particular — that  it 
begins  where  the  people  are,  and  gathers  them 
together  at  that  point  where  they  have  already 
learned  to  stand  together  as  neighbors  and  fellow- 
citizens.  In  a  community,  therefore,  which  is 
already  Christian,  the  Community  Church  is  itself 
a  Christian  institution.  Where  the  citizens  all 
accept  Jesus  as  their  saviour  or  leader,  the  church 
which  they  sustain  as  fellow  members  is  naturally 
dedicated  to  the  service  of  the  Nazarene.     As  he 


COMMUNITY  CHUECH :  PEINCIPLES  23T 

is  already,  in  the  individual  experience  of  the  men 
and  women  concerned,  the  personal  incarnation  of 
spiritual  idealism,  so  is  he  naturally  to  them  as 
well  the  headstone  of  the  church  edifice.  Nothing 
else  is  possible  if  the  Community  Church  is  to  be 
true  to  itself  as  the  embodiment  of  the  religious 
side  of  the  community  life.  As  well  expect  a 
public  school  to  teach  Hebrew  to  the  children  of 
the  Gentiles,  or  the  public  library  to  gather  French 
books  for  the  reading  of  an  English-speaking  town, 
as  to  expect  a  community  church  to  remove  Jesus 
from  the  high  pinnacle  of  his  unique  spiritual 
eminence  in  a  community  where  no  other  prophet 
of  the  free  spirit  is  known  or  adored.  In  most 
communities,  therefore,  at  present,  the  Community 
Church  is  naturally  and  inevitably  a  Christian 
church.  Nothing  else  is  to  be  expected,  or  indeed, 
from  the  standpoint  of  true  democratic  idealism, 
to  be  desired. 

In  its  ultimate  form,  however,  the  Community 
Church  cannot  be  a  Christian  church.  On  the  one 
hand,  such  identification  with  Christianity  would 
constitute  a  betrayal  of  the  idea  of  religion  as  a 
universal  instinct  of  human  nature.  All  men,  as  we 
have  seen,  are  naturally  religious,  and  seek  to  give 
expression  to  the  spiritual  impulses  which  move 
within  their  souls.  It  is  this  fact  which  has 
produced  the  great  variety  of  religions  which 
have  appeared  iu  different  ages  and  places,  and 
under  the  inspiration  of  different  prophets.  All 
of  these  religions  must  be  regarded  from  this  view- 


238  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

point  as,  within  their  limits,  sound  and  good.  All 
are  surely  to  be  recognized  as  integral  parts  of 
the  sum  total  of  human  experience  in  the  spiritual 
realm.  Christianity  at  its  best  is  only  one  par- 
ticular expression  of  the  one  spirit,  determined  by 
prophetic  leadership,  by  historical  accident,  by 
intellectual  modes  of  thought,  by  great  crises  in 
moral  and  social  life.  The  same  thing  is  true  of 
Judaism,  as  of  Confucianism,  Buddhism,  Moham- 
medanism. Back  of  all  these  faiths  is  the  soul. 
When  the  great  Parliament  of  Religions  gathered 
in  Chicago  in  1893,  the  world  saw  therein  the 
promise  of  the  one  religion  which  should  some 
day  end  all  differences  of  sect  and  creed,  and  unite 
mankind  in  the  one  great  family  of  God.  Now 
the  Community  Church,  if  faithful  to  itself,  is  but 
an  attempt  to  embody  in  a  single  church  what  was 
embodied  universally  in  that  Parliament.  It  seeks 
to  take  men  where  they  are  already  gathered  to- 
gether and  living  the  common  life,  and  lead  them 
to  the  spiritual  fulfillment  of  this  social  promise. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Community  Church 
cannot  be  in  any  exclusive  sense  a  Christian  church, 
for  the  reason  that  it  must  be  faithful  to  the  ideal 
of  the  community  as  the  unit  of  spiritual  integra- 
tion. Now  the  community,  as  we  know  it  at  least 
in  this  country,  has  citizens  who  are  not  Chris- 
tians. Here  in  our  civic  family  are  Jews,  Bahaists, 
Hindus,  Buddhists,  and  Shintoists.  Shall  the  dis- 
tinction between  Episcopalians  and  Unitarians, 
between  Catholics  and  Protestants,  now  be  denied; 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH:  PRINCIPLES  239 

and  this  distinction  between  Christians  and  so- 
called  pagans  be  acknowledged?  If  so,  where  is 
our  community?  If  the  non-Christian  is  fit  to  be 
a  citizen  of  the  state,  why  should  he  not  also  be 
fit  to  be  a  member  of  the  church?  What  I  see  in 
Jesus,  my  Jewish  brother  sees  in  Isaiah,  my 
Bahaist  brother  in  Baha  O'lla,  my  Buddhist 
brother  in  Buddha.  But  behind  the  prophet,  who 
means  the  most  to  each,  there  stands  the  one 
supreme  ideal  of  truth  and  love;  and  we  unite,  if 
not  in  the  person,  then  in  the  spirit  of  which  the 
person  is  the  incarnation. 

The  Community  Church,  therefore,  must  be 
more  than  a  Christian  church.  If  it  is  to  reflect 
with  any  accuracy  the  life  of  the  community,  it 
must  recognize  spiritually  every  citizen.  Take  the 
situation  in  our  large  cities,  for  example,  where 
Christians  no  longer  constitute  the  whole  or  even  a 
predominant  part  of  the  population.  In  the  Bor- 
ough of  Manhattan  in  Greater  New  York,  in  a 
population  of  less  than  three  millions,  there  are 
considerably  more  than  one  million  Jews.  In  other 
words,  one  person  out  of  every  two  or  three  in  this 
great  area  has  no  connection  of  any  kind  with 
Christianity.  By  tradition,  and  in  certain  cases 
by  personal  conviction,  these  men  and  women  are 
members  of  another  race,  children  of  another  cul- 
ture, the  followers  of  prophets  known  to  Chris- 
tianity only  as  the  forerunners  of  the  Christ. 
These  persons,  it  is  to  be  noted,  are  members  of  the 
community;  they  are  recognized  on  equal  terms 


240  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

with  Christians  as  neighbors  and  citizens.  They 
vote,  they  do  business,  they  walk  the  streets,  they 
rear  families  and  sustain  homes,  just  as  their 
Christian  contemporaries  do.  They  are  admitted 
in  every  way  into  the  community  life  of  their  city. 
Indeed,  in  many  of  the  institutions  of  the  city,  as 
in  the  theatres  and  newspapers,  they  have  long 
since  become  the  predominant  factors.  Now  what 
shall  the  Community  Church  do,  if  these  people 
desire  to  be  members  of  such  a  church,  as  they  are 
already  members  of  such  a  community?  If  it  is 
true  to  itself,  must  not  the  Community  Church, 
under  such  circumstances,  organize  itself  on  lines 
which  are  not  exclusively  Christian?  Already  it 
proclaims  itself  as  distinctive  from  all  other 
churches  in  the  one  great  fact,  among  others,  that 
its  doors  are  flung  wide  open  to  all  who  live  in  and 
contribute  to  the  community  life.  Fidelity  to  this 
proclamation  surely  means  that  in  such  a  place  as 
Manhattan,  Jews  must  be  made  as  welcome  as 
Christians !  And  let  it  be  noted  that  this  welcome 
must  be  offered  to  them  as  Jews^  for  our  Hebrew 
comrades  have  as  much  right  to  preserve  fidelity 
to  Israel  as  Christians  have  to  remain  loyal  to 
Christianity. 

The  logic  of  community  religion,  in  other  words, 
involves  ultimately  an  escape  from  Christianity, 
as  it  has  already  involved  an  escape  from  Presby- 
terianism  or  Congregationalism.  There  can  be  no 
stopping  short  of  the  far  and  high  goal  of  universal 
religion.     In  saying  this,  let  it  be  noted  with  all 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH :  PRINCIPLES  241 

emphasis  that  the  Community  Church  is  not  to  be 
regarded  in  any  sense  as  anti-Christian.  We  have 
already  learned  that,  in  eschewing  denomination- 
alism,  the  Community  Church  is  not  anti-denomi- 
national. It  has  no  quarrel  with  Presbyterianism, 
or  Unitarianism,  or  any  other  Protestant  sect.  It 
recognizes  them  all  as  having  played  their  part  in 
history,  and  as  representing  important  aspects  of 
thought  and  moral  aspiration;  and  then  seeks  to 
"nite  them  on  that  high  plane  of  spiritual  vision 
where  they  properly  belong.  So  in  its  attitude 
toward  Christianity!  The  Community  Church 
seeks  not  to  oppose  Christianity,  or  to  weaken  it, 
or  even  to  ignore  it.  On  the  contrary,  it  would 
receive  it  as  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  beneficent 
of  world  religions,  and  build  it  into  the  structure 
of  the  new  universal  religion  which  is  some  day  to 
capture  the  imagination  and  hold  the  allegiance 
of  mankind.  The  Community  Church,  so  far  from 
being  anti-Christian,  is  to  be  regarded  as  Chris- 
tianity plus.  It  takes  Christianity  for  what  it  is, 
and  then  adds  to  it  those  contributions  of  experi- 
ence and  idealism  which  can  come  from  other 
races  and  other  faiths.  The  main  thing  is  that 
the  altar  of  community  religion  shall  be  so  wide 
and  beautiful  that  all  men  will  come  to  it  gladly, 
and  find  there  companionship  alike  with  God  and 
man.  Like  Jesus  himself,  the  Community  Church 
will  thus  seek  not  to  destroy  Christianity  but  to 
fulfill  it. 

In  this  sense  of  the  word,  may  it  not  be  sug- 


24t2  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOR   OLD 

gested  that  to  just  the  extent  that  the  Community 
Church  transcends  the  limitations  of  Christianity, 
it  becomes  truly  Christian?  May  we  not  dare  to 
assert  that  the  Community  Church,  which  has  a 
welcome  alike  for  "Jew  and  Gentile,  bond  and 
free,"  is  the  one  church  which  really  represents 
today  that  spirit  which  was  in  Jesus?  We  search 
the  Gospels  in  vain  to  find  any  evidence  that  the 
circle  of  Jesus's  disciples  was  closed  to  any  man 
who  would  enter  it  in  the  spirit  of  love.  It  is 
impossible  to  carry  back  into  his  day  the  sectarian 
differences  which  now  divide  the  Protestant 
world.  Equally  difficult  is  it  to  recognize  in  his 
spirit  or  practice  any  distinction  between  Chris- 
tian or  Jew  or  pagan.  Indeed,  the  word 
"Christian"  did  not  appear  in  the  lifetime  of  Jesus 
at  all.  It  was  only  later,  when  men  and  women 
had  begun  to  narrow  their  minds,  and  open  their 
hearts  to  prejudice  and  fear,  that  a  certain  group 
of  those  who  followed  Jesus  came  to  be  known  in 
Antioch  as  "Christians."  Certainly  if  Chris- 
tianity is  to  be  what  Jesus  intended  it  to  be,  it 
must  be  at  least  as  inclusive  as  his  own  spirit. 
And  this,  as  we  know,  was  as  wide  as  the  circle  of 
humanity  and  as  deep  as  the  depths  of  human  woe. 
We  are  inclined  to  believe,  therefore,  that  a  uni- 
versal religion  marks  the  ultimate  fulfillment  of 
the  true  Christian  religion;  and  that  the  Com- 
munity Church,  therefore,  in  this  one  distinctive 
aspect  of  universality,  may  be  regarded  in  the 
highest  and  best  sense  of  the  word  as  "Christian." 


COMMUNITY  CHUKCH:  PEINCIPLES  243 

VII 

Such  are  some  of  the  principles  and  purposes 
which  distinguish  the  Community  Church  from 
the  typical  institutions  of  religion  with  which  we 
are  familiar.  Is  it  not  possible  to  summarize  this 
contrast  by  stating  that  the  Community  Church 
acts  upon  the  idea  that  the  community  and  not  the 
church  is  the  central  thing — that  the  community  is 
"the  real  presence"  of  God;  the  repository  of  his 
truth  and  the  realization  of  his  Kingdom?  The 
ordinary  church  of  our  time,  and  every  time, 
regards  itself  as  a  basic,  a  holy  thing.  It  thinks  of 
itself  as  "coming  down  out  of  heaven  from  God," 
and  thus  bringing  revelation  and  salvation  unto 
men.  The  more  liberal  churches,  of  course,  do  not 
speak  of  themselves  in  this  way.  But  these 
churches  still  believe  that  they  have  something 
indispensable  to  give  to  the  community,  that  men 
and  women  should  come  to  them  for  instruction 
and  conversion,  that  without  their  ministrations 
the  world  would  be  without  religion  and  therefore 
without  redemption.  To  some  extent  or  other  every 
church,  orthodox  and  liberal  alike,  is  guilty  of  the 
fundamental  blasphemy  of  believing  that  society 
was  made  for  the  church  and  not  the  church  for 
society. 

Now  the  Community  Church  does  the  revolu- 
tionary thing  of  avoiding  this  exaltation  of  itself. 
It  makes  the  community  the  primary  thing,  and  the 
church  the  secondary !     Emerson  once  said  that  the 


244  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOE   OLD 

Bible  might  be  destroyed  from  cover  to  cover,  with- 
out loss;  for  in  such  case,  men  would  write  it  again 
from  out  their  own  inspired  souls.  Similarly  may 
we  say  of  the  churches,  that  they  also  might  be 
destroyed  without  loss;  for  if  this  were  done,  the 
people  would  straightway  rear  new  churches  to  give 
voice  to  their  needs  and  service  to  their  ideals. 
Indeed  there  would  be  gain  in  this  process  in  the 
end;  for,  in  place  of  institutions  which  represent 
ideas  and  methods  which  have  not  died  out  with  the 
generations  which  produced  them,  we  should  have 
institutions  instinct  with  the  life  of  this  time,  and 
vital  therefore  with  its  hopes. 

It  is  something  of  this  desired  substitution  of  new 
for  old  which  is  now  proceeding  in  the  present  com- 
munity church  movement.  This  phenomenon  rep- 
resents the  creative  spirit  of  democracy  at  work  in 
the  chaotic  field  of  religion.  It  is  the  people  pro- 
claiming their  native  spiritual  power,  recognizing 
that  God  is  "in  the  midst  of  them,"  building  anew 
tall  altars  on  which  he  may  be  worshiped  and 
made  known.  The  Community  Church  is  proud  of 
the  fact  that  it  comes  not  "down  out  of  heaven,''  but 
up  from  the  earth.  It  rejoices  iu  the  assurance  that 
its  roots  are  deep  in  the  soil  of  human  hearts.  It 
acknowledges  that  it  is  from  the  people  that  it 
draws  its  life,  and  to  the  people,  therefore,  that 
it  must  make  return.  The  Community  Church  is 
rightly  named.  It  is  not  primarily  a  church  at  all ; 
rather  is  it  the  community  in  spiritual  action. 
Like  every  other  democratic  institution — the  state, 


COMMUNITY  CHURCH :  PRINCIPLES  245 

the  school,  the  social  center — it  is  the  work  of  men's 
hands,  the  instrument  of  men's  hearts,  the  expres- 
sion of  men's  souls.  Not  the  people  for  the  church, 
but  the  church  for  the  people — ^this  is  the  secret  of 
this  new  hope. 

VIII 

Such  in  principle  is  the  Community  Church, 
which  is  destined  so  surely  to  succeed  the  tradi- 
tional churches  of  Protestantism.  These  churches 
are  dead,  or  are  now  dying.  The  new  democratic 
spirit  of  the  times  has  made  these  institutions  as 
impossible  as  vehicles  of  the  contemporary  religious 
consciousness,  as  the  medieval  church  of  Rome.  A 
new  Renaissance  is  upon  us  which  makes  inevitable 
a  new  and  greater  reformation.  And  the  church  of 
this  reformation  is  the  church  not  of  another  Luther 
or  John  Calvin — not  of  any  man  or  Bible  or  creed — 
but  of  the  people.  Democracy  is  coming  at  last 
into  its  own,  in  religion  as  in  politics  and  industry; 
and  the  church  of  democracy  is  none  other  than  this 
which  we  are  learning  now  to  call  the  Community 
Church, 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  COMMUNITY  CHURCH: 
ORGANIZATION,  MESSAGE  AND  WORK 


'^You  miist  understand,  this  is  no  dead  pile  of  stone 
and  unmeaning  timber.  It  is  a  living  thing.  .  .  . 
When  you  enter  it  you  hear  a  sound — a  soun^  as  of  some 
mighty  poem  chanted.  Listen  long  enough,  and  you  will 
learn  that  it  is  made  up  of  the  beating  of  human  hearts, 
of  the  nameless  music  of  men's  souls — ^that  is,  if  you 
have  ears.  If  you  have  eyes,  you  will  presently  see  the 
church  itself — a  looming  mystery  of  many  shapes  and 
shadows,  leaping  sheer  from  floor  to  dome.  .  .  .  The 
pillars  of  it  go  up  like  the  brawny  trunks  of  heroes :  the 
sweet  human  flesh  of  men  and  women  is  moulded  about 
its  bulwarks,  strong,  impregnable:  the  faces  of  little 
children  laugh  out  from  every  corner-stone :  the  terrible 
spans  and  arches  of  it  are  the  joined  hands  of  comrades; 
and  up  in  the  heights  and  spaces  there  are  inscribed  the 
numberless  musings  of  all  the  dreamers,  of  the  world. 
It  is  yet  building — ^building  and  built  upon.  Sometimes 
the  work  goes  forward  in  deep  darkness:  sometimes  in 
blinding  light:  now  beneath  the  burden  of  unutterable 
anguish :  now  to  the  tune  of  a  great  laughter  and  heroic 
shoutings  like  the  cry  of  thunder.  Sometimes,  in  the 
silence  of  the  night-time,  one  may  hear  the  tiny  ham- 
merings of  the  comrades  at  work  up  in  the  dome — ^the 
comrades  that  have  climbed  ahead." 

Charles  Rann  Kennedy,  in 

The  Servant  in  the  House 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  COMMUNITY  CHUECH: 
ORGANIZATION,  MESSAGE  AND  WORK 


In  turning  to  the  discussion  of  such  problems  as 
those  pertaining  to  the  organization,  message  and 
work  of  the  Community  Church,  we  come  face  to 
face  with  matters  of  prophecy.  The  principles  of 
the  Community  Church  are  already  evident  as  a 
present  reality  of  thought.  These  more  practical 
questions,  however,  have  yet  to  be  worked  out  in 
terms  not  of  abstract  speculation  but  of  concrete 
experience.  We  have  here  phenomena  which  are 
subject  to  development,  and  therefore  wait  for  the 
future  for  their  answer. 

II 

We  may  be  fairly  definite,  however,  in  our  fore- 
cast of  the  organization  of  the  Community  Church, 
for  the  reason  that  this  represents  simply  the  task 
of  extending  into  the  religious  field  those  ideas  and 
practices  of  democratic  relationship  which  have 
already  been  made  familiar  to  us  in  the  field  of 
politics.     Three  hundred  years  of  Congregational- 

249 


250  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOR   OLD 

ism  which,  ecclesiastically  speaking,  is  democracy 
applied  to  the  problem  of  church  government,  have 
done  much  to  point  us  the  way. 

From  this  point  of  view,  we  may  say  that  the 
Community  Church,  after  the  pattern  of  the  com- 
munity out  of  which  it  springs,  will  be  controlled 
on  the  basis  of  a  universal  franchise.  All  members 
will  have  equal  voice  in  the  management  of  the 
church,  in  other  words,  just  as  all  citizens  have 
equal  voice  in  the  management  of  the  municipality 
or  the  state.  There  will  be  no  priestly  offices  of 
any  kind — no  bishops  or  presbyters,  deacons  or 
elders — and  therefore  no  centralized  authority. 
There  will  be  no  division  between  church  and  parish, 
except  as  such  division  may  be  made  necessary  by 
the  laws  of  the  state.  There  will  simply  be  the  one 
body  of  the  congregation  inside  the  church,  as  there 
is  the  one  body  of  the  citizenry  outside  the  church. 
This  body  will  do  business  on  the  basis  of  the  town 
meeting  idea;  it  will  elect  its  own  officers,  manage 
its  own  finances,  own  and  control  its  own  property 
until  such  time  as  it  is  taken  over  by  the  community, 
discuss  and  determine  its  own  policy  and  practice. 
In  one  word,  the  Community  Church  will  act  as  the 
community  acts,  for  the  church  is  the  community 
functioning  in  the  religious  field. 

The  executive  direction  of  the  Community  Church 
will  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  popularly  elected 
board  of  managers,  composed  of  men  and  women 
chosen  by  vote  of  the  people  for  comparatively  short 
terms  of  office.     There  will  be  no  qualifications  for 


OEGANIZATION  AND  WORK  251 

membership  on  this  board,  financial  or  otherwise, 
save  such  personal  qualifications  of  character, 
ability,  and  interest  in  the  church,  as  would  nat- 
urally commend  themselves  to  the  judgment  of  a 
popular  constituency.  There  will  be  standing 
committees,  as  for  example  a  finance  committee, 
chosen  by  the  people  and  responsible  to  the  people ; 
and  special  committees  appointed  on  frequent 
occasions  for  special  work.  The  autocratic  control 
of  a  self-perpetuating  vestry,  or  an  independent  and 
irresponsible  board  of  trustees,  will  be  altogether 
unknown.  The  Community  Church  will  control  its 
officers  as  directly  as  a  town  meeting  controls  its 
selectmen  and  its  clerk. 

The  financial  support  of  the  Community  Church 
will  be  democratic  to  the  core — which  means  that  it 
will  be  established  on  the  basis  of  individual  volun- 
tary subscriptions!  That  ancient  and  hoary 
abomination,  the  pew-rental  system,  will  be  swept 
out  of  the  Community  Church  as  Jesus  swept  the 
money-changers  out  of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem. 
It  is  by  no  means  one  of  the  least  of  the  merits  of 
this  institution  that  it  tends  to  end  forever  •  the 
separation  in  the  Lord's  house  of  rich  and  poor,  of 
those  able  and  those  not  able  to  pay.  Many  of  our 
existing  churches,  of  course,  have  "free  seats,"  as 
they  are  called;  but  hospitality  extended  to  the 
general  public,  however  graciously,  by  a  private 
group  of  persons  owning  and  controlling  a  church, 
is  one  thing,  and  the  organization  of  this  church  on 
a  basis  of  public  ownership  and  control  is  another 


252  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

and  very  different  thing.  The  Community  Church 
abolishes  pew-rentals  not  as  an  act  of  hospitality 
or  patronage  merely,  but  as  a  step  in  the  sweeping 
process  of  socialization.  The  door  is  open  to  any- 
body who  will  enter,  not  merely  to  the  pew  at  the 
services  of  worship  on  Sunday,  but  to  the  governing 
constituency  of  the  organization  at  the  annual 
business  meeting  on  Monday.  Every  citizen,  as  we 
have  said  so  often,  has  equal  rights  of  ownership,  as 
well  as  use,  in  the  Community  Church ;  and  the  sign 
or  symbol  of  his  exercise  of  this  right  is  his  sub- 
scription, large  or  small,  to  the  institution's 
support. 

Lastly,  it  should  be  emphasized  that  the  real 
Community  Church  will  have  an  equipment  ade- 
quate to  meet  the  needs  of  community,  and  not 
merely  the  traditional  parish,  life.  This  does  not 
mean  the  waste  and  extravagance  involved  in  the 
erection  of  elaborate  institutional  buildings.  It 
means  simply  a  church  house  with  offices,  class 
rooms,  assembly  rooms,  libraries,  and  a  theatre 
recognized  as  important  in  every  way  as  the  audi- 
torium for  Sunday  worship.  Such  equipment,  of 
course,  implies  a  "faculty  ministry" — not  one 
clergyman  worked  to  death,  degraded  to  the  indig- 
nities of  a  Jack-of-all-trades,  handy  at  everything 
and  too  tired  and  distracted  to  be  preeminently 
good  at  anything;  but  a  group  of  men,  each  one 
trained  to  the  practice  of  a  single  profession — 
preaching,  religious  education,  personal  ministra- 
tion, social  service,  general  management — and  each 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  253 

one  a  leader  in  his  department.  Such  a  ministry 
will  be  easy  to  maintain  when  one  community 
church  has  taken  the  place  of  ten  or  a  dozen  com- 
peting denominational  churches,  and  resources 
therefore  have  been  pooled.  The  Community 
Church  is  intended  to  be  what  all  too  few  churches 
have  ever  been  in  the  past — efficient!  It  will  be 
adequately  equipped  for  the  great  task  of  the 
Kingdom. 

Ill 

In  our  discussion  of  the  message  and  work  of  the 
Community  Church,  we  can  be  much  less  definite 
and  confident  than  in  our  discussion  of  the  various 
aspects  of  its  organization.  For  organization,  like 
principles,  is  bound  to  be  much  the  same  wherever 
in  a  democracy  the  new  type  of  religious  institution 
makes  its  appearance.  The  message  and  work  of  a 
Community  Church,  however,  will  vary  according 
to  the  needs  of  the  community  in  which  it  is  placed, 
the  character  of  the  people  who  compose  its  mem- 
bership, and  the  kind  of  leaders  which  it  develops. 
A  Community  Church  in  a  prosperous  suburban 
town  is  likely  to  speak  a  somewhat  different  mes- 
sage to  the  world  than  a  Community  Church 
located  in  a  grimy  and  poverty-stricken  factory 
village.  A  Community  Church  in  a  rural  district, 
where  farming  is  the  occupation  of  the  people,  is 
likely  to  undertake  a  different  work  from  that 
attempted  by  a  Community  Church  planted  in  the 
heart  of  a  great  municipality.      There  can  be  no 


254  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

uniformity  in  matters  of  this  kind — nor  should 
there  be!  For  the  very  virtue  of  the  Community 
Church  is  the  fact  that  it  is  an  institution  growing 
out  of  the  soil  of  the  community  and  therefore  giv- 
ing expression  to  the  peculiar  character  and  needs 
of  the  community. 

The  ordinary  denominational  church,  with  which 
we  are  familiar,  comes  to  a  city  or  a  town  with  a 
message  and  work  that  are  definitely  prepared 
beforehand,  like  the  play  produced  by  a  group  of 
strolling  players.  An  Episcopal  chapel  in  a  little 
seaside  village  goes  through  the  same  performance 
as  a  great  cathedral  in  the  city.  A  Presbyterian 
church  speaks  the  same  message  to  a  group  of  day 
laborers  on  the  lower  East  Side  as  to  a  group  of 
prosperous  idlers  on  upper  Fifth  Avenue.  If  the 
word  and  work  are  by  some  chance  adapted  to  the 
community  to  which  they  are  offered  ^  the  church 
enjoys  some  measure  of  prosperity.  If  they  are 
not  adapted,  however,  the  church  languishes  and 
ultimately  dies,  like  an  exotic  plant,  or  is  delib- 
erately kept  alive  by  the  hot-house  ministrations  of 
the  "home  office.''  Seldom  does  the  denominational 
church  think  of  making  itself  over  to  suit  the  needs 
of  the  particular  people  whom  it  has  come  to  serve, 
and  thus  become  an  accurate  expression  of  their 
lives.  The  whole  idea  is  that  the  people  must  be  made 
over,  or  converted,  to  the  church,  not  the  church  to 
the  people !  The  ordinary  sectarian  church  would 
rather  die,  or  abandon  a  community  as  though  its 


*As  by  the  great  Labor  Temple  In  New  York,  a  community  church 
in  all  but  name  I 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WOEK  255 

people  had  no  religion  to  be  cultivated  or  directed, 
than  abate  one  jot  or  tittle  of  its  Methodism,  Episco- 
palianism  or  Unitarianism.  With  the  Community 
Church,  however,  it  is  different.  This  institution, 
as  we  have  said  so  many  times,  is  a  product  of  the 
community's  life,  and  therefore  as  sensitive  as  an 
organism  to  its  environment.  It  is  as  native  to  the 
soil  as  the  pine  tree  to  the  state  of  Maine,  or  the 
palm  tree  to  the  state  of  Florida.  A  Community 
Church  at  any  one  time  will  be  what  its  community 
is  at  that  same  time.  And  as  there  are  various 
communities,  so  also  will  there  be  various  com- 
munity churches.  The  principles  and  organization 
of  these  churches  must  necessarily  be  very  much  the 
same;  but  their  message  and  work  can  conform  to 
no  one  type,  and  measure  up  to  no  one  standard. 
Just  as  it  takes  all  kinds  of  people  to  make  a  world, 
so  must  it  take  all  kinds  of  community  churches  to 
make  a  religion ! 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  difficulties  involved 
in  the  matter,  there  are  certain  things  that  may  be 
said  about  the  message  and  work  of  a  Community 
Church.  There  are  uniform  characteristics  that 
are  bound  to  appear,  just  because  the  Community 
Church  is  a  community  church,  and  not  specifically 
a  Baptist,  or  Methodist,  or  Universalist  church. 


IV 

In  the  first  place,  as  regards  the  message  of  the 
Community  Church,  it  must  be  conceded  that  it 


256  NEW   CHURCHES    FOE   OLD 

will  be  characterized  by  a  freedom  which  is  un- 
precedented in  the  history  of  Christianity.  This 
emancipation  of  thought  and  speech  will  come 
about,  not  because  of  any  superior  virtue  in  the 
people  who  compose  the  Community  Church ;  they 
will  be  the  same  persons  that  they  were  when  they 
were  Presbyterians  or  Congregationalists.  It  will 
come  about  simply  as  a  result  of  the  shift  of  alle- 
giance from  the  particular  denomination  to  the 
whole  community.  The  pulpit  will  be  delivered 
because  it  will  be  responsible  to  a  public  sentiment 
which  represents  all  elements  of  opinion,  and  not  to 
an  ecclesiastical  orthodoxy  which  represents  but 
one. 

The  trouble  in  this  matter  of  freedom  in  our 
churches  can  be  traced  straight  back  to  the  simple 
fact  that  the  typical  church  is  a  private  institution, 
supported  by  a  selected  group  of  persons  for  the 
propagation  of  a  sectarian  interpretation  of  re- 
ligion. The  clergyman,  under  ordinary  conditions, 
is  not  a  timid  or  hidebound  person ;  he  expresses  his 
opinion  at  the  town  meeting,  or  at  the  ballot-box, 
or  in  the  newspaper  columns,  as  freely  as  any  other 
man.  The  members  of  the  church  are  not  bigoted 
persecutors ;  in  the  every-day  affairs  of  life  they  are 
tolerant  of  differing  opinions.  Put  these  people 
together  in  the  normal  relations  of  community 
activity,  and  there  is  freedom  for  the  formation  and 
expression  of  individual  opinion.  But  in  the 
church  the  relations  are  not  normal,  but  abnormal. 
When  minister  and  people  enter  the  church  on 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  257 

Sunday  morning,  they  are  no  longer  citizens 
together  but — Presbyterians,  let  us  say !  What  it 
is  to  be  a  Presbyterian  has  been  determined  by 
centuries  of  tradition  and  practice.  It  is  written 
down  in  creeds,  and  published  in  sacraments  and 
rites  of  worship.  The  very  moment  that  Presby- 
terians assemble  for  any  purpose  as  Presbyterians, 
and  not  as  citizens,  they  are  conscious  of  a  certain 
standard  to  which  they  must  conform,  as  the  mem- 
bers of  an  orchestra  are  conscious  of  a  certain  pitch 
to  which  they  must  tune  their  instruments.  The 
same  people  assembled  by  accident  as  citizens  of  the 
community,  would  practice  entire  freedom  of  utter- 
ance and  conviction ;  but  assembled  by  intention  as 
Presbyterians,  they  become  bound  at  once  by  the 
standard  of  the  faith  "once  committed  to  the 
saints,"  and  now  imposed  upon  themselves.  Every 
one  is  mindful  of  a  standard  to  be  maintained — of 
truth  not  to  be  discovered  but  preserved.  Any 
deviation  from  the  pitch,  so  to  speak,  is  instantly 
detected,  and  awakens  loyalty  to  defensive  action. 
Not  public  sentiment,  with  its  large  varieties  of 
opinion,  but  the  orthodoxy  of  the  inner  circle,  is 
here  in  control;  and  freedom,  therefore,  banished 
from  the  sanctuary. 

Now  in  the  Community  Church,  of  course,  all  this 
will  be  changed.  When  the  members  of  a 
Community  Church  come  together  on  a  Sunday 
morning,  they  assemble  not  as  members  of  a 
denomination  but  as  citizens  of  the  community. 
They  represent  all  varieties  of  theological  opinion 


258  NEW   CHUKCHES    FOR    OLD 

in  the  church,  exactly  as  they  represent  all  varieties 
of  political  opinion  in  the  town;  and  naturally 
enough,  they  expect  the  minister  to  "say  his  say"  on 
the  questions  under  discussion  in  the  pulpit  with 
the  same  freedom  and  candor  that  they  expect  the 
mayor  or  the  governor,  or  any  other  political  leader, 
to  exercise  on  the  platform.  Public  sentiment,  in 
other  words,  is  the  controlling  factor  inside  the 
Community  Church  as  w^ell  as  outside;  and  as  this 
public  sentiment  includes  all  elements  of  opinion,  it 
will,  naturally,  be  tolerant  of  these  elements.  Of 
course,  in  every  community,  there  are  prevailing, 
or  majority,  opinions;  and  if  the  minister  of 
the  Community  Church  sets  himself  deliberately 
against  this  opinion  on  any  burning  issue,  he  will 
inevitably  suffer.  But  he  will  suffer  not  in  free- 
dom, but  in  popularity!  So  also  there  are  occa- 
sions, as  for  example  in  war  times,  when  public 
sentiment  runs  high,  and  under  provocation  be- 
comes as  intolerant  and  cruel  as  any  inquisition  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  It  is  probable,  for  example,  that 
under  the  conditions  current  here  in  America  since 
1917,  the  freedom  of  an  ideal  Community  Church 
would  have  suffered  as  terribly  as  the  freedom  of 
the  public  schools.  But  this  is  an  abnormal  con- 
dition of  hysteria  and  panic,  from  which  it  is  unfair 
to  draw  conclusions.  Furthermore  it  is  distinctly 
to  be  noted  that,  in  this  terrific  period,  it  was 
the  denominational  churches  which  went  under 
first,  and  the  public  institutions  last.  Freedom 
disappeared  from  the  churches  long  before  it  did 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  259 

from  the  state.  But  it  must  be  frankly  admitted 
that  the  Community  Church  cannot  escape  the 
frailties  of  human  nature.  It  will  always  suffer 
from  the  same  diseases  that  prey  upon  the  com- 
munity at  large.  But  the  Community  Church  will 
at  least  be  as  free  as  the  community  in  which  it  is 
placed;  and  to  this  extent  freer  than  the  great 
majority  of  private  institutions.  When  a  church  is 
responsible  not  to  a  selected  group  of  persons,  who 
have  but  one  opinion  on  any  issue  which  concerns 
their  life  as  a  sect,  but  to  all  the  people  who  have  all 
sorts  of  opinions  on  all  the  issues  which  concern 
their  life  as  a  community,  we  shall  have  at  last  a 
free  church,  worthy  of  the  democracy  of  which  it  is 
the  highest  spiritual  expression. 

Again,  in  speaking  of  the  message  of  the  Com- 
munity Church,  we  would  emphasize  that  this  mes- 
sage will  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  matters  of 
theological  discussion.  It  has  already  been  made 
plain  that  the  Community  Church  has  no  creeds  of 
any  kind.  Theology  is  taken  out  of  the  institution 
and  handed  over  to  the  individual;  it  is  a  matter 
always  not  of  institutional  fiat  but  of  individual 
opinion!  But  it  is  not  to  be  assumed  from  this 
fact  that  all  theological  problems  are  ruled  out,  or 
of  their  own  accord  disappear,  from  the  community 
pulpit.  Such  a  thing  is  impossible,  even  if  it  were 
desirable,  which  it  is  not !  For  man  is  a  theological 
animal  just  as  truly  as  he  is  a  religious  animal.  He 
lives  gladly  and  curiously  in  the  realm  of  the  intel- 
lect.    He  is  so  constituted  by  nature  that  he  wants 


260  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

answers  to  questions,  solutions  to  problems.  When 
he  encounters  the  unknown,  every  instinct  of  his 
being  demands  that  this  unknown  be  transformed 
as  speedily  and  surely  as  possible  into  the  known. 
Now  in  religion  he  finds  more  questions  unanswered 
and  problems  unsolved  than  in  any  other  field  of 
experience.  Here  the  unknown  stretched  to  bounds 
that  baffle  calculation,  to  say  nothing  of  compre- 
hension. Here,  therefore,  his  demands  are  most 
insistent.  And  it  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the 
honest  attempts  of  his  intellect  to  satisfy  these 
demands  that  constitute  what  we  mean  by  theology. 
The  trouble  with  our  churches  in  the  past  is  not 
that  they  have  theologized,  but  that  they  have  set 
arbitrary  limits  to  the  process  of  theologizing. 
They  have  been  guilty  of  the  monstrous  crime  of 
asserting  that  our  questions  about  the  infinite  and 
the  eternal  have  been  answered,  that  the  unknown 
has  been  explored  to  the  very  end.  They  have  even 
gone  so  far  as  to  state  the  secret  of  creation,  and  to 
insist  upon  our  accepting  this  statement  as  a  reve- 
lation from  God.  With  the  result  that  theology,  to 
say  nothing  of  its  falsity,  has  been  made  absolutely 
a  dead  thing !  It  has  become  a  matter  of  formula 
and  rote.  Nobody  has  any  interest  in  what  any 
conventional  theologian  has  to  say,  for  everybody 
knows  what  he  will  isay  before  he  begins.  The 
doctrines  have  been  taught  him  by  the  church,  and 
it  is  his  business,  parrot-like,  to  repeat  them. 

The   Community   Church,   now,   is  destined,   in 
course  of  time,  to  restore  theology  to  its  original 


OEGANIZATION  AND  WORK  261 

position  as  a  science  of  inquiry.  By  refusing  to 
offer  any  dogmatic  solution  of  what  must  always 
remain  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case  a  mystery,  and 
by  encouraging  every  individual  to  enter  upon  his 
own  quest  of  the  unknown  and  bring  back  his  own 
testimony  of  discovery  and  correction,  the  Com- 
munity Church  will  lift  theology  onto  a  plane  of 
interest  as  high  as  that  of  any  of  the  great  sciences 
of  our  time.  The  minister  will  not  only  be  expected 
but  requested  to  discuss  the  vast  problems  of  God, 
immortality,  the  origin  and  character  of  the  soul. 
People  will  assemble  to  hear  him,  as  they  gather  to 
hear  a  lecture  on  astronomy  or  geographical  ex- 
ploration. The  sermon,  if  well  done,  will  be  as 
fascinating  as  a  novel.  For  nobody  will  know,  as 
they  know  now,  what  conclusion  will  be  reached. 
The  minister  may  work  out  to  a  belief  in  God,  or  he 
may  not.  He  may  accept  the  transcendental  deity 
of  the  idealistic  philosophy,  or  he  may  find  more 
satisfaction  and  comfort  in  the  idea  of  an  evolving 
God  who  is  still  finding  his  way  and  trying  his 
experiments.  In  discussing  immortality,  he  may 
accept  the  doctrine  or  reject  it,  as  the  evidence  may 
seem  to  him  to  dictate.  The  point  is  that  in  a  Com 
munity  Church,  freed  from  every  last  vestige  of 
theological  dogmatism,  the  minister,  like  every 
other  individual,  will  simply  be  one  inquirer  into 
the  mystery  of  the  unknown  making  confession  not 
of  what  others  must  believe,  but  of  what  he  himself 
has  found.  Under  such  conditions,  theological  dis- 
cussion will  flourish  as  it  has  not  flourished  since 


262  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

the  great  days  of  Aquinas  and  Albert  Magnus. 
The  message  of  the  Community  Church  will  be 
theological  to  a  degree  that  will  surprise  us. 

Supreme  over  everything  else,  however,  in  the 
message  of  the  Community  Church,  will  be  the 
social  note.  That  message  of  socialized  religion, 
for  which  we  have  been  struggling  so  long  and  on 
the  whole  so  unsuccessfully,  will  at  last  come  into 
its  own  in  this  new  type  of  religious  institution.  It 
was  only  a  few  years  ago  that  there  came  what  was 
known  as  the  social  awakening  of  Christianity.  A 
great  social  enthusiasm  came  breaking  upon  the 
world,  like  the  opening  of  the  buds  in  spring;  and 
this  enthusiasm  spread  to  the  church,  and  seized 
upon  the  hearts  of  eager  and  sensitive  young  men. 
For  a  time  it  seemed  as  though  the  churches  were 
going  to  be  transformed,  and  the  social  spirit,  so 
implicit  in  the  gospel  of  Jesus,  become  the  dominant 
factor  in  religious  life.  Great  prophets  appeared, 
like  Washington  Gladden;  great  books  were  writ- 
ten, like  Rauschenbusch's  Christianity  and  the 
Social  Crisis;  great  platforms  were  formulated,  like 
that  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  But  the 
churches  as  a  whole,  as  we  can  now  see  after 
the  interval  and  in  the  light  of  the  experience  of  the 
war,  were  not  affected.  They  remained  the  same 
highly  individualized,  and  therefore  essentially 
unsocialized,  institutionts  that  they  had  been  from 
the  beginning.  And  as  we  now  look  back  upon  this 
period,  we  can  see  that  it  must  necessarily  have 
been  so — and  must  ever  be  so,  as  long  as  churches 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  263 

are  organized  along  the  lines  which  are  accepted  at 
this  moment.  For  the  ordinary  church,  as  has  been 
pointed  out,  is  by  its  very  nature  a  private  and  not 
a  public  institution,  and  is  therefore  concerned 
primarily  with  private  and  not  public  affairs.  Its 
concern  is  not  with  the  citizens  of  the  community, 
but  with  its  own  members.  Its  interests  of  course 
begin  with  itself  and  its  prosperity,  and  not  with 
the  community  and  its  welfare.  Its  problem  must 
be  not  the  relation  of  citizens  to  one  another  in  the 
community,  but  the  relation  of  each  individual 
citizen  to  itself,  as  a  soul  to  be  saved,  a  member  to 
be  won.  All  of  which  means  that  the  denomina- 
tional church  can  never  be  an  institution  of 
socialized  religion !  Its  message  can  never  be  pri- 
marily a  social  message.  Its  business  is  to  further 
the  propaganda  of  the  particular  denomination 
which  it  represents.  This  means  that  its  business 
is  private,  and  not  public;  and  its  concern  the 
individual  and  not  society. 

The  Community  Church,  however,  in  contrast 
with  the  denominational  church,  can  have  no  other 
practical  message  but  the  social  message.  When 
the  members  of  such  a  church  come  together,  they 
gather  as  members  primarily  of  the  community ;  and 
the  interests  which  are  uppermost  in  their  minds, 
are  community  interests.  There  are  no  Presby- 
terian doctrines  to  divert  their  attention;  no  outside 
sectarian  demands  to  exhaust  their  energy ;  no  com- 
petition with  rival  churches  on  the  next  block  to 
narrow  their  vision  and  stiffen  their  selfishness. 


264  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

They  are  free  of  every  consideration  but  that  of 
their  relations  together  as  neighbors  in  the  one  com- 
munity, as  associates  in  the  business  of  the  public 
welfare,  as  servants  of  the  common  good.  How  will 
it  be  possible  for  the  minister  of  &uch  a  church  to 
avoid  discussion  of  community  problems?  How 
will  it  be  possible  for  the  members  of  such  a  church 
to  seek  any  other  instruction  than  that  of  justice, 
righteousness  and  good  will?  Many  things  about 
the  Community  Church  may  be  uncertain,  but  this 
one  thing  is  sure,  that  the  social  message  will  flame 
from  its  pulpit  like  a  beacon  from  a  lofty  hill.  It 
is  because  I  see  in  this  reorganization  of  the  church 
along  community  lines  an  opportunity  for  the 
preaching  and  hearing  of  the  social  message  such 
as  I  am  convinced  can  never  come  in  the  existing 
denominational  institutions,  that  I  have  become 
conscripted,  as  it  were,  to  the  furtherance  of  this 
movement.  This  is  the  "way  out"  of  our  impasse 
in  this  matter  of  socialized  religion.  We  must  have 
community  churches,  that  we  may  have  pulpits  in 
every  community  which  will  proclaim  "the  Gospel 
of  the  Kingdom" ! 


So  much  for  the  message  of  the  Community 
Church.     What  now  shall  we  say  about  its  work? 

Central  to  all  its  activities  will  be  the  Sunday 
morning  services  of  w^orship.  These  will  be  very 
different  from  what  we  see  about  us  at  the  present 
moment,  for  they  will  in  every  case  be  community 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  265 

services,  by  which  we  mean  that  they  will  be  services 
of  communion  and  not  of  disunion.  Nowadays 
the  community  divides  itself  up  on  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing into  all  sorts  of  fragments.  The  majority  of  the 
people,  long  since  disgusted  with  these  private  clubs 
known  as  churches,  do  not  go  anywhere  for  worship. 
The  rest  disperse  in  a  hundred  different  directions, 
each  one  seeking  a  little  company  of  persons,  with 
whose  opinions  he  agrees,  or  into  whose  secrets  he 
has  been  initiated.  Families  are  often  divided  in 
this  process,  brothers  going  to  one  church  and 
sisters  to  another.  Even  husbands  and  wives  occa- 
sionally separate,  a  temporary  divorce  proceeding 
being  enacted  when  they  approach  the  altars  of 
God.  A  community  is  cut  up  into  a  larger  number 
of  pieces,  and  is  therefore  less  of  a  community  in 
the  true  sense  of  the  word,  on  a  Sunday  morning 
than  at  any  other  moment  of  the  week.  We  are  at 
that  time  most  conscious  of  the  differences  that 
divide  us,  and  least  conscious  of  the  interests,  pur- 
poses and  ideals  that  inevitably  unite  us.  If  it  is 
possible  to  conceive  of  a  method  of  tearing  people 
apart,  and  defeating  the  ideal  of  a  common  life 
dedicated  by  a  common  spirit  to  common  ends, 
which  is  more  disastrously  successful  than  that  of 
denominationalism,  the  world  has  not  discovered  it. 
Now  the  Community  Church  unites  people  on  a 
Sunday  morning,  instead  of  dividing  them.  The 
single  church  in  the  small  community,  or  the  many 
churches  in  the  many  neighborhoods  of  the  large 
community,  will  gather  together  all  of  the  people 


266  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

witliin  their  districts  and  lead  them  in  a  great  act 
of  spiritual  communion  one  with  another.  I  know 
of  one  Community  Church,  already  established  in  a 
little  town,  which  comprises  within  its  membership 
ninety  per  cent  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  town. 
These  people  represent  no  less  than  thirteen  dif- 
ferent denominations;  and  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances would  divide  themselves  up  on  a  Sunday 
morning  into  thirteen  different  congregations.  But 
in  this  town,  these  people  all  come  together  in  the 
one  place,  for  a  common  act  of  dedication  to  the 
best  and  the  highest  that  they  know.  Ninety  per 
cent  of  the  population  of  this  community  is 
assembled,  or  represented,  in  the  Community 
Church  on  every  Sunday  morning.  They  do  regu- 
larly together,  as  a  matter  of  course,  what  the  citi- 
zens of  other  communities  do  only  by  a  great  effort 
at  a  union  service  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  or  a 
patriotic  assembly  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  Sunday, 
in  other  words,  is  the  community  day.  The  Sunday 
morning  service  is  the  weekly  gathering  in  conse- 
cration of  the  community  life.  The  Community 
Church,  in  its  work,  will  hallow  this  day  and  this 
service;  and  as  the  Community  Church  movement 
develops  throughout  the  country,  it  will  become  the 
great  occasion  for  the  expression  of  the  democratic 
idealism  of  America. 

Secondly,  in  its  work  the  Community  Church  will 
organize  a  forum,  for  the  development  of  those 
ideas  and  processes  which  cannot  find  proper  ex- 
pression   at    the    Sunday    morning   service.       No 


OKGANIZATION  AND  WORK  267 

Community  Church  will  be  complete  without  a 
forum;  for  the  church,  we  must  remember,  is  the 
community,  and  the  community  must  have  oppor- 
tunity for  community  discussion  of  public  problems, 
and  this  discussion  can  properly  be  held  only  in  the 
best  atmosphere  of  moral  and  spiritual  idealism. 
Few  of  us  realize  to  what  an  extent  in  recent  years 
the  forum  movement  has  fostered  the  community 
idea,  and  the  forum  meeting  suggested  the  possi- 
bility and  desirability  of  the  Community  Church. 
These  forums,  when  successful,  are  indeed  the  Com- 
munity Church  in  embryonic  form.  They  are  the 
people  of  a  neighborhood  gathered  together  without 
regard  to  any  other  interest  than  that  of  their  com- 
mon concern  with  a  problem  of  public  thought  and 
public  welfare.  We  have  now  only  to  extend  this 
forum  gathering,  to  integrate  its  helter-skelter 
membership  into  a  definite  organization,  to  lift  its 
activity  above  the  plane  of  mere  discussion  to  that 
of  service  and  devotion,  to  fuse  its  energies,  con- 
centrate its  many-mindedness,  purify  its  spirit,  in 
order  to  transform  it  into  a  genuine  Community 
Church  such  as  we  are  discussing  at  this  moment. 
The  forum  movement  must  be  very  definitely 
regarded  as  an  anticipation  of,  and  preparation  for, 
the  Community  Church  movement.  And  now  that 
the  two  movements  are  together  in  the  field,  they 
will  tend  to  become  ever  more  and  more  closely 
allied,  until  the  one  is  always  and  everywhere  asso- 
ciated with  the  other.  Every  forum  will  inevitably 
tend  to  develop  into  a  Community  Church;  and 


268  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

every  Communitj  Church  will  necessarily  organize 
itself,  among  other  things,  into  a  forum.  The 
church,  may  we  not  say,  will  be  the  forum  worship- 
ing; and  the  forum  will  be  the  church  debating! 
Thirdly,  the  Community  Church  will  not  forget 
that  work  of  personal  ministration  which  has  from 
the  beginning  been  a  perogative  of  religion.  This 
will  consist,  on  the  one  hand,  of  religious  education 
for  the  young;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  of  spiritual 
counsel  and  advice  for  those  of  maturer  years. 
Religious  education  by  the  church  will  some  day, 
of  course,  be  made  unnecessary  by  a  system  of 
adequate  public  instruction  which  will  not  elimi- 
nate those  moral  and  spiritual  elements  which  are 
so  essential  in  the  right  training  of  the  rising  gen- 
eration. This  happy  end,  however,  will  not  be 
achieved  until  theology  has  been  dethroned  from  its 
central  place  in  the  religious  life  and  the  age-old 
distinction  between  church  and  society  successfully 
eliminated.  Meanwhile  the  Community  Church 
must  train  its  children  to  a  true  understanding  of 
those  ideals  of  fellowship  which  are  the  essence  of 
our  new  religion  of  democracy  or  humanism.  This 
means,  from  the  negative  point  of  view,  a  curricu- 
lum altogether  delivered  from  the  traditional 
studies  of  the  Bible,  church  history,  creeds,  and 
ecclesiastical  virtues;  and,  from  the  positive  point 
of  view,  a  curriculum  occupied  with  investigations 
of  social  institutions,  the  social  virtues  necessary  to 
the  maintenance  and  extension  of  such  institutions, 
the  lives  of  the  saints  and  martyrs  who  have  glori- 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  269 

fied  these  virtues,  and  the  literature  and  art  which 
record  the  sacred  story  of  human  brotherhood.  The 
historic  development  of  the  family,  the  school,  the 
state,  the  church;  man's  struggles  to  organize  his 
life  on  a  basis  of  good  will;  the  rise  and  fall  of 
civilizations;  democracy,  its  meaning  and  signifi- 
cance; economic  needs  as  a  factor  in  social  develop- 
ment; evolution,  especially  in  its  ethical  and 
spiritual  phases  as  presented  for  example  by  John 
Fiske  and  Henri  Bergson;  great  movements  for 
human  betterment,  such  as  the  abolition  of  slavery 
and  the  slave  trade,  the  emancipation  of  women,  the 
prohibition  of  the  liquor  traffic,  prison  reform, 
single  tax,  and  socialism;  great  servants  of 
humanity,  such  as  Lao-tse,  Buddha,  Socrates, 
Jeremiah,  Jesus,  St.  Francis,  St.  Xavier,  Savo- 
narola, Huss,  Wesley,  Parker,  Garrison,  John 
Bright,  Tolstoi,  Jane  Addams,  Wilfred  Grenfell, 
Romain  Rolland,  and  Mahatma  Gandhi;  the  philo- 
sophical principles  of  cooperation  and  mutual  aid ; 
the  story  of  religion  in  its  non-theological  and 
therefore  universal  humanistic  aspects — ^these  are 
some  of  the  subjects  which  will  be  presented  and 
studied  in  any  well-organized  school  of  community 
religion.  A  book  of  the  type  of  H.  G.  Wells's  The 
Outline  of  History,  written  with  clearer  insight  into 
spiritual  influences  and  values,  and  supplemented 
by  abundant  first-hand  material  from  literature  and 
contemporary  life,  may  not  unfairly  be  presented  as 
a  text-book  for  such  a  school. 

Personal  ministration  to  those  of  older  years  will 


270  NEW   CHUECHES    FOE   OLD 

have  its  place  in  the  Community  Church,  as  the 
work  of  physicians,  organized  more  and  more  on  the 
basis  of  public  service,  has  its  important  place  in 
the  community  at  large.  Ideal  social  conditions 
are  central  to  religious  life,  as  ideal  sanitary  con- 
ditions are  central  to  physical  health.  But  always, 
in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  there  will  be  those 
unhappy  individuals  who  through  weakness, 
ignorance,  or  deliberate  excess,  find  themselves  in 
need  of  healing.  For  such  the  church  has  ever  been 
a  place  of  refuge  and  restoration;  and  so  it  will 
continue  to  be  under  any  form  of  ecclesiastical 
organization  in  the  future.  But  in  the  Community 
Church  this  service  will  be  put  on  a  basis  of  exact 
science,  such  as  is  now  being  offered,  for  example, 
by  psycho-analysis;  and  in  the  hands  of  skilled 
experts,  trained  to  this  task  of  service  as  their 
specialty.  The  Community  Church,  in  other  words, 
will  have  its  clinic  for  the  diagnosis  and  cure  of  the 
besetting  ills  of  man's  inward  spirit. 

Lastly,  and  most  important  in  this  matter  of  the 
work  of  a  Community  Church,  is  the  problem  of 
community  service.  For  it  goes  without  saying 
that  the  chief  work  of  such  a  church  will  be  social 
in  its  character.  It  will  find,  indeed,  the  crown  of 
all  its  labors,  the  justification  of  its  very  existence, 
in  what  we  may  call  applied  or  socialized  religion. 
Inevitably  it  will  organize  itself  into  a  kind  of  com- 
munity center  for  the  initiation  and  direction  of 
every  form  of  practical  service  for  the  common  wel- 
fare.    Indeed  the  community  center,  as  we  know  it 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WOEK  271 

today,  may  not  inaccurately  be  described  as  the 
Community  Church  at  work.  It  is  significant  that 
where  the  Community  Church  establishes  itself, 
there  is  no  need  for  the  community  center  to  go,  for 
the  Community  Church  builds  a  community  center 
for  its  work  as  inevitably  as  it  builds  a  sanctuary 
for  its  worship.  We  have  a  community  center 
movement  in  this  country  today,  only  because  we 
have  in  most  localities  churches  which  are  too  busy 
in  denominational  rivalry  with  one  another,  or  too 
blinded  in  service  of  their  denominational  interests, 
to  give  attention  to  the  social  welfare  of  the  com- 
munities in  which  they  stand.  As  the  forum  is 
destined  to  coalesce  with  the  Community  Church, 
so  also  is  the  community  center;  for  the  Community 
Church  must  practice  the  message  which  it 
preaches. 

In  this  practical  social  work  of  the  Community 
Church,  two  things  must  be  said  with  great 
distinctness. 

In  the  first  place,  this  work  will  not  be  of  the 
charitable  and  philanthropic  type  ordinarily  asso- 
ciated with  church  activities  in  society  at  large. 
The  Community  Church,  in  obedience  to  the  new 
social  philosophy  of  our  time,  will  concern  itself 
primarily  not  with  persons  but  with  conditions.  It 
will  seek  not  so  much  to  relieve  distress  as  to 
reform  and  thus  wipe  out  the  social  causes  which 
produce  distress.  The  Community  Church  will 
deal  at  first  hand  with  the  community — its  festering 
ills,  its  crying  injustices,  its  pitiless  exploitations 


272  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

of  the  many  by  the  few.  It  will  face  unafraid  the 
problems  of  property,  of  private  ownership  of 
public  resources  and  utilities,  of  the  use  of  capital, 
of  the  system  of  profit,  of  the  hundred  complexities 
of  our  new  industrial  civilization  which  have 
created  new  miseries  for  old,  and  perpetuated 
slavery  into  an  age  of  freedom^  The  Community 
Church,  in  other  words,  true  to  its  name,  will  seek 
to  establish  a  true  community;  this  will  mean  a 
battle  to  the  death  against  every  political  and 
economic  privilege  of  wealth  which  now  stands  in 
opposition  to  the  commonwealth.  At  the  least  the 
Community  Church  will  be  an  agent  of  reform,  at 
the  most  of  revolution;  for  it  is  concerned  that 
"God's  Kingdom  shall  come,''  by  which  it  means,  as 
did  the  Nazarene,  that  God's  will  shall  here  and 
now  be  done  on  earth. 

Secondly,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  work  which 
the  Community  Church  will  undertake  will  be 
dictated  by  the  community  to  the  church,  and  not 
by  the  church  to  the  community.  Ordinarily,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  institutional  church,  for  example, 
the  church  knows  exactly  what  the  community 
wants  or  ought  to  have !  It  attempts  to  dictate  in 
matters  of  practical  service,  just  as  it  has  attempted 
to  dictate  in  matters  of  worship  and  belief.  But 
not  so  the  Community  Church !  It  must  never  be 
forgotten  that  this  church  belongs  to  the  com- 
munity, and  not  to  some  outside  organization,  or 
movement;  that  it  is  an  outgrowth  of  the  com- 
munity life,  and  therefore  a  natural  expression  of 


OEGANIZATION  AND  WORK  273 

that  life;  that  it  is  just  as  much  an  instrument  in 
the  hands  of  the  people  as  the  government  or  the 
schools.  This  being  the  case,  the  Community 
Church  will  register  as  accurately  and  immediately 
the  sentiments  of  the  community,  as  the  barometer 
registers  the  density  of  the  atmosphere.  The 
church  will  rest  in  the  hands  of  the  people  as  a 
pliable  tool,  to  be  used  for  whatever  the  people 
want.  In  its  practical  work,  therefore,  the  Com- 
munity Church  will  not  so  much  serve  the  people 
as  express  the  people.  The  church  will  not  do 
something  for  the  people,  but  the  people  will  do 
something  with  the  church.  The  community  and 
the  church  will  be  at  the  center  of  things,  and  what 
is  done  will  be  the  will  of  the  community. 

For  example,  in  New  York  City  in  recent  years 
the  social  workers  have  been  busy  with  the  organi- 
zation of  neighborhood  associations,  and  now,  to- 
day, of  so-called  community  councils.  These  are 
attempts  not  to  dictate  to  the  people  or  even  to  serve 
them,  but  to  awaken  the  people  to  a  consciousness 
of  their  own  needs,  and  put  in  their  hands  public 
instruments  through  which  these  needs  may  be 
satisfied.  A  true  neighborhood  association,  or 
community  council,  is  a  simple  organization  of  the 
people  in  a  certain  limited  locality,  for  the  discovery 
and  expression  of  neighborhood  interests,  and  the 
service  of  these  interests  by  the  people  themselves 
in  their  own  way  and  to  their  own  ends.  Now  all 
these  organizations  would  be  unnecessary  if  our 
churches  were  community  and  not  denominational 


274  NEW   CHUECHES    FOE   OLD 


institutions.  What  these  neighborhood  associa- 
tions are  doing,  our  community  churches  will  be 
doing  when  once  they  have  found  their  place  and 
won  the  confidence  of  the  people. 

Another  illustration  is  furnished  by  the  remark- 
able National  Social  Unit  undertaking  which  was 
carried  forward  so  successfully  some  years  ago  in 
Cincinnati.  This  is  an  attempt  to  do  in  a  some- 
what more  intensive  and  thoroughly  democratic 
way  what  the  loosely  organized  neighborhood  asso- 
ciations are  doing  in  New  York.  Thus  its  organi- 
zation, as  finally  perfected,  includes  a  citizens' 
council,  chosen  by  block  councils,  which  are  elected 
in  turn  by  residents  living  in  a  unit-area  of  thirty- 
one  blocks;  an  occupational  council,  composed  of 
representatives  of  seven  skilled  industrial  groups; 
and  a  general  council,  made  up  of  the  other  two 
councils,  and  having  full  control  of  neighborhood 
programs  for  civic  betterment.  Its  result  is  the 
awakening  of  the  people  of  a  given  area  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  their  social  needs,  and  their  organi- 
zation under  their  own  leadership  for  the  satisfac- 
tion of  these  needs.  What  is  produced  is  a  highly 
complex  and  amazingly  efficient  social  machine, 
democratic  in  every  part,  through  which  the  com- 
munity is  able  to  express  itself  with  ease  and 
power.  The  Community  Church  will  need  and 
therefore  produce  just  such  machinery  as  this. 
Indeed,  when  religion  has  become  thoroughly 
socialized  through  its  identification  with  com- 
munity    needs    and     aspirations,     the     churches 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  275 

throughout  the  land  will  themselves  be  the  social 
units  through  which  the  community  will  function. 

Further  illustrations  of  our  meaning  are  found 
in  the  public  health  activities  of  our  time,  the  social 
and  recreational  movements,  the  great  reform  cam- 
paigns conducted  by  such  bodies  as  the  Consumers' 
League,  the  Nation;al  Association  for  Labor  Legis- 
lation, the  National  Child  Welfare  Association,  etc., 
the  organizations  for  the  protection  of  civil  liber- 
ties, all  political  movements  looking  toward  the 
establishment  of  economic  justice  and  industrial 
cooperation.  Even  the  trade  unions  and  the  more 
radical  class  movements  in  society  have  at  their 
heart,  in  however  strange  and  perverted  form,  the 
vision  of  the  whole  community  functioning  happily 
and  freely  as  a  working  organism.  From  the  most 
conservative  to  the  most  revolutionary  proposal  for 
social  change,  there  runs  a  consciousness  of  com- 
munity values  and  community  ideals,  which  is  the 
one  constant  quantity  in  the  equation  of  reform. 
Everywhere  today  we  are  thinking  in  terms  of 
community  life,  and  working  for  a  heaven  which 
shall  be  here  and  not  beyond  the  grave. 

Do  I  mean  to  identify  the  Community  Church 
with  these  movements?  Are  our  churches,  if  trans- 
ferred from  the  theological  to  the  community  basis, 
to  become  mere  public  health  and  recreational 
centers,  mere  organizations  for  political  reform  and 
industrial  agitation?  Not  at  all !  No  church  that 
is  a  church  can  be  confined  to  these  activities,  how- 
ever central  they  may  be  in  any  true  expression  of 


276  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

that  spiritual  life  which  finds  its  fulfillment  in  the 
democracy  of  fellowship.  What  I  see  in  these 
phenomena  is  a  spirit  at  work  in  narrow  fields  of 
particular  endeavor,  which  will  some  day  be  caught 
up  and  put  to  work  everywhere  in  the  higher  life  of 
man.  What  I  see  is  a  new  religion,  now  uncon- 
scious of  itself,  which  will  some  day  create  new 
churches  in  which  it  will  "center  and  function  for 
the  projection  of  those  farther  community  ideals 
which  none  of  us  are  today  sufficiently  socialized  to 
conceive."  ^ 

VI 

Contemplation  of  all  these  aspects  of  our  problem 
shows  how  fast  we  are  moving,  both  in  the  churches 
and  in  the  social  field,  toward  the  development  of 
community  religion.  The  one  really  vital  move- 
ment in  Protestantism  today  is  the  effort  of  pro- 
gressive men  and  women  to  make  the  churches  to 
be  active  forces  in  the  social  life  of  city,  state  and 
nation.  The  great  preachers  are  prophets  of  social 
change;  the  live  churches  are  agencies  of  social  re- 
demption. More  and  more  religion  seeks  to  justify 
itself  by  its  social  vision,  and  to  work  out  a  tech- 
nique for  the  practical  fulfillment  of  this  vision. 
On  the  other  hand  is  the  growing  realization  of  the 
truth  that  the  social  service  activities  of  our  time 
are  essentially  religious  in  character.  In  them  is 
the  spirit  of  consecration,  the  love  of  men,   the 


*  Harvey     Dee    Brown,     In     pamphlet,     Sociological    A.wec/ts     of    a 
Community  Churchj  published  by  the  Community  Church,   New  York 


City. 


ORGANIZATION  AND  WORK  277 

yearning  for  the  Kingdom.  Our  settlement  houses, 
imperfect  and  incomplete  as  they  are,  nevertheless 
are  as  truly  the  expression  of  the  religion  of  our 
time  as  the  monasteries  were  the  expression  of  the 
religion  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Our  campaigns  for 
public  health,  the  abolition  of  poverty,  the  democ- 
racy of  labor,  are  as  genuine  and  heroic  adventures 
of  the  spirit  as  the  crusades  to  the  Holy  Land. 
Canon  Barnet  is  a  saint  as  truly  as  Francis,  Jane 
Addams  as  surely  as  Teresa.  In  more  senses  than 
one  the  settlement  or  social  center  is  the  modern 
church,  and  the  social  worker  the  modern  priest. 

It  is  this  identification  of  religion  with  the  cause 
of  social  change,  and  the  great  movements  of  social 
change  with  religion,  which  points  unerringly  to  the 
advent  of  the  Community  Church.  For  the  Com- 
munity Church,  be  it  said  again,  is  the  community 
functioning  spiritually.  It  is  democracy  at  work 
in  religion.  It  is  the  people  entering  into  their  last 
and  most  precious  inheritance.  For  the  history  of 
our  time  is  the  history  of  the  conquest  of  social 
institutions  by  the  common  people.  One  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago,  in  America  and  in  France,  the 
people  decided  to  take  possession  of  their  govern- 
ments; and  from  that  day  to  this,  the  history  of 
politics  has  been  the  history  of  the  progressive 
democratization  of  the  state.  Fifty  years  ago,  the 
people  entered  upon  the  prodigious  task  of  taking 
possession  of  industry ;  and  today,  in  Russian  revo- 
lutions, and  British  Labor  Parties,  and  reform 
agitations    everywhere,    we    see    the    progressive 


278  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

triumph  of  the  democratization  of  the  economic 
system.  Now  comes  the  turn  of  the  church,  to  do 
at  last  what  it  promised  but  failed  to  do  in  the 
great  days  of  the  Reformation.  For  religion,  as 
Dr.  Joseph  E.  McAfee  has  stated,  "like  every  other 
social  concern,  must  be  brought  under  community 
control,  if  democracy  is  fully  to  vindicate  itself."  ^ 
In  religion,  as  in  politics  and  industry,  the  people 
will  have  their  way;  and  the  Community  Church 
is  the  temple  which  they  will  build. 


*  See  article  in  The  New  Republic,  January  18»  1919. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM 


^The  new  era  is  ushering  itself  in  by  a  new  religion, 
and  that  religion  is  not  merely  the  Christian  religion, 
but  an  expansion  of  it.  .  .  .  Keligion  now  becomes 
the  sum  of  all  human  aspirations;  worship  the  sum  of 
all  human  services;  and  all  the  workers  are  the  wor- 
shipers. The  Church  loses  one  by  one  its  functions, 
and  ceases  to  exist  as  a  separate  institution  .  .  .  but 
its  place  is  taken  by  the  universal  communion  of  a 
humanity  pressing  forward  to  the  prize  of  its  high 
calling.'' 

Henry  Demarest  Lloyd,  in 

Man  the  Social  Creator 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM 

I 

Our  discussion  of  the  Community  Church  would 
be  incomplete  if  we  did  not  turn  from  theory  to 
practice,  from  prophecy  to  reality.  For  this  move- 
ment has  within  a  comparatively  few  years  become 
something  more  than  a  program  and  a  promise. 
Community  churches  are  rapidly  appearing  in  all 
parts  of  the  United  States,  more  particularly  in  the 
middle  and  far  west;  and  presenting,  therefore^  a 
problem  of  practical  concern. 

The  most  fertile  field  for  these  churches  seems  to 
be  the  rural  and  thus  sparsely  settled  sections  of 
the  country  where,  as  we  have  seen,  the  old-line 
denominational  institutions  no  longer  flourish. 
Many  communities  in  these  areas  are  beset  by  a 
ridiculously  excessive  number  of  churches,  no  one 
of  which  is  able  to  win  adequate  support  in  com- 
petition with  the  others.  In  such  cases,  the  tend- 
ency is  strong  today  to  combine  these  churches  into 
a  single  institution,  to  be  sustained  by  the  com- 
munity as  a  whole.  In  other  villages  or  townships, 
the  churches  have  killed  one  another  off,  and  thus 

281 


282  NEW   OHUECHES   FOR  OLD 

have  disappeared  altogether.  In  such  cases, 
religious  life  tends  to  revive  in  the  form  of  an  insti- 
tution which  represents  a  combination  of  com- 
munity church  and  community  center.  In  some 
states  the  condition  of  the  churches  in  the  rural 
districts  has  become  so  scandalous  that  the  de- 
nominational machines  have  been  forced  to  take 
joint  action  to  save  the  institution ;  and  always  they 
find  the  community  basis  the  one  upon  which  they 
can  most  easily  and  effectively  do  their  work.  Thus 
in  Ohio,  at  a  conference  of  clergymen  representing 
twelve  different  Protestant  denominations,  it  w^as 
agreed  that,  in  any  community  of  one  thousand 
inhabitants  or  less,  one  church  was  adequate ;  that 
in  such  communities  where  there  was  more  than  one 
church,  all  should  be  abandoned  except  the  one 
strongest  institution  in  the  field,  or,  if  this  was 
impracticable,  all  should  be  combined  in  a  single 
union  or  community  church ;  and  that  in  such  com- 
munities where  there  was  no  church  today,  one 
should  be  established  on  strictly  undenominational 
lines.  A  similar  program  has  been  drawn  up  by  a 
conference  in  Montana  representing  eight  de- 
nominations. There  can  be  no  question  that  the 
future  of  organized  religion  in  the  rural  sections  of 
this  country  is  wrapt  up  with  the  destiny  of  the 
community  church  idea. 

A  second  field  where  community  churches  are 
appearing  most  rapidly  and  flourishing  most  vigor- 
ously is  that  of  the  suburban  or  residential  districts 
of  our  great  cities.     In  such  places  there  is  a  nat- 


THE  PEACTICAL  PROBLEM  283 

ural  uniformity  of  population  which  makes  easy  the 
development  of  a  well-ordered  neighborhood  or 
community  life.  Now  as  this  life  rises  above  the 
threshold  of  consciousness,  and  enters  upon  the 
fulfillment  of  its  purposes,  it  finds  intolerable  the 
idea  of  a  division  in  religion  which  exists  nowhere 
else  in  the  social  group.  Why  should  there  not  be 
one  church  in  common,  as  there  is  one  recreation 
hall,  one  library,  one  high  school,  one  park  and 
playground,  in  common?  This  is  the  question  that 
the  citizens  of  such  towns  inevitably  ask  themselves 
when  faced  by  the  challenge  of  organizing  their 
religious  life;  and  inevitably  they  answer  it  by 
turning  away  from  the  old  sectarian  disputations  of 
their  fathers,  and  building  a  single  church  for  the 
whole  community.  Incidentally  this  is  a  return  to 
the  old  idea  of  town  and  parish,  which  held  sway 
in  the  early  days  of  the  Puritan  settlement  of  New 
England,  but  in  a  new  spirit  as  broad  and  humane 
as  the  old  spirit  was  intolerant  and  autocratic. 

Lastly,  we  find  today  isolated  community 
churches  appearing  in  certain  of  our  larger  centers 
of  population.  These  are  old  churches  reorganized 
and  rededicated  by  members  who  are  clear-visioned 
enough  to  discern,  and  wise  enough  to  heed,  the 
signs  of  the  times ;  or  new  churches  established  by 
persons  who  see  no  hope  in  any  phase  of  Protestant- 
ism today,  but  hold  with  Emerson  that  "no  greater 
calamity  can  fall  upon  a  nation  than  the  loss  of 
worship."  ^      These  churches  represent  the  boldest 

^See  his  "Divinity  School  Address"   (1838). 


284:  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

experiment  in  the  religious  life  of  the  present  day. 
In  communities  which  are  not  in  any  real  sense  of 
the  word  "communities,"  but  chaotic  masses  of 
heterogeneous  human  material,  seething  whirls  of 
unamalgamated  social,  racial  and  religious  ele- 
ments, they  hold  aloft  that  "kindly  light"  without 
which  our  democracy  would  be  hopelessly  lost 
"amid  the  encircling  gloom."  If  this  democracy  is 
to  be  saved,  it  must  be  by  religion  lifting 

"High    .    .    .    against  whatever  darkness, 
...   a  burning  lamp    ...    a  flame 
The  wind  cannot  blow  out."^ 

But  religion  understood  not  in  the  traditional 
theological  sense,  but  in  that  new  sense  of  spiritual 
fellowship  which  is  the  community  in  vision! 
"Religion,"  says  Henry  Demarest  Lloyd,^  "is  that 
group  of  ideas  which  hinds  men  together/^  It  is 
the  spirit  of  these  ideas  which  the  community 
churches  in  our  great  cities  cherish,  against  odds 
which,  like  an  earthquake,  shake  the  world ! 

The  appearance  of  these  churches  may  well  stir 
confidence  in  the  minds  of  all  who  see  in  a  move- 
ment transcending  and  superseding  Protestantism, 
as  Protestantism  transcended  and  superseded 
Catholicism,  the  hope  of  the  continuance,  as  a  social 
influence,  of  organized  religion.  It  would  be 
foolish,  however,  as  it  would  be  also  dishonest,  to 
deceive  anybody  into  believing  that  these  com- 
munity churches,  in  either  city  or  country,  are  at 


'  Edna  St.  Vincent  Millay,  in  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell,  page  38. 
'In  Man  the  Social  Creator,  page  33. 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  285 

this  moment  true  to  type.  The  Community  Church, 
as  interpreted  in  the  ideal  sense,  has  yet  to  appear — 
and  on  a  day  far  distant  from  our  own!  All  of 
these  churches  which  take  the  name,  fall  short  in 
form;  they  are  evangelical  and  thus  exclusive,  or 
they  cling  from  necessity  or  choice  to  old  denomi- 
national affiliations,  or  they  embody  class  distinc^ 
tions  abhorrent  to  pure  democracy.  Many  of  them 
fall  short  in  understanding;  they  have  not  thought 
through  the  logic  of  this  ideal  of  community  re- 
ligion as  affecting  Christianity,  or  the  relation  of 
church  and  state.  But  what  we  have  here,  of 
course,  as  in  every  such  situation,  is  the  process  of 
evolution.  The  significant  fact  about  these 
churches  is  not  that  they  have  not  arrived,  but  that 
they  have  started.  What  is  well  begun  is  half  done ! 
All  that  is  needed,  now  the  spirit  of  change  is  thus 
effectively  at  work,  is  knowledge  of  adverse  circum- 
stances that  impede  development,  war  against  the 
hostile  forces  that  deliberately  interfere  with 
progress,  answer  to  doubts  and  questions  that  stir 
even  in  the  friendliest  minds,  in  order  to  effect  a 
release  of  energy  which  will  sweep  the  movement  on 
to  triumph. 

II 

First  among  the  conditions  unfavorable  to  the 
rapid  and  full  success  of  the  Community  Church  i -^ 
the  traditional  idea  which  has  been  stated  ^  but 


^See  above,  page  228, 


286  NEW   CHURCHES    FOE   OLD 

must  now  be  amplified  from  this  standpoint,  that 
religion  represents  a  private  rather  than  a  public 
or  community  interest.  The  majority  of  people, 
especially  those  who  have  received  religious  train- 
ing of  any  kind,  are  simply  not  in  a  state  of  mind 
to  understand,  much  less  appreciate  and  accept,  the 
doctrine  that  the  practice  of  religion  is  essentially 
a  community  affair,  and  should  be  properly  organ- 
ized, therefore,  on  a  community  basis.  Religion 
means  nothing  to  such  people  save  as  an  intimate 
individual  experience  which  may  be  regarded  as  a 
medium  of  personal  salvation,  or  an  influence  to 
personal  righteousness,  or  even  an  open  door  to 
social  standing.  The  church  has  to  them  no  attrac- 
tion or  even  worth,  save  as  it  provides  a  kind  of 
private  chapel  or  shrine,  which  may  serve  as  a 
refuge  from  the  common  life  of  the  world  in  which 
we  are  all  too  often  lost.  To  humanize  religion 
in  terms  of  social  function,  and  present  the  church 
in  the  guise  of  a  social  institution — to  fuse  the 
sacred  with  the  secular,  transform  theology  into 
sociology,  and  seek  again  the  union  of  church  and 
state — means  simply  to  wipe  out  everything  that  is 
distinctively  spiritual  and  abandon  religion  alto- 
gether. The  Community  Church  is  to  these  people 
not  a  church  at  all,  but  a  community  center,  to  be 
called  such  in  the  name  of  honesty  if  nothing  more ! 
This  attitude,  naturally  to  be  expected  in  the 
light  of  Christian  history,  and  certain  to  be  broken 
down  in  course  of  time  by  processes  of  education, 
would  cause  no  discouragement  nor  alarm  were  it 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  287 

not  for  the  fact  that  these  processes  are  constantly- 
being  interfered  with  by  forces  that  are  not  unwill- 
ing to  serve  their  own  interests  at  the  public 
expense.  The  denominations,  in  other  words,  are 
busily  at  work !  They  see  clearly  enough  what  the 
development  of  this  democratic  movement  in  re- 
ligion really  means.  They  understand,  without 
any  special  tutoring  on  the  subject,  that  every 
successful  attempt  to  identify  religion  with  life  and 
the  church  with  the  community,  means  the  progres- 
sive disintegration  of  their  authority  and  influence, 
and  therefore  of  their  social  primacy  and  property 
interests.  It  is  just  because  the  movement  of 
secularization  has  advanced  so  fast  and  so  far  in 
recent  times  that  the  churches  have  lost  their  hold 
upon  the  modern  world,  and  are  now  tottering  upon 
the  brink  of  collapse.  The  great  denominational 
interests  of  Protestantism  know  perfectly  well  that 
if  they  are  to  be  saved  at  all,  this  movement  must 
be  stopped.  Religion  must  preserve  its  private, 
personal,  unworldly  character.  The  interests  of 
religion  must  be  more  sharply  than  ever  identified 
with  the  interests  of  a  particular  creed,  or  formula, 
or  sectarian  organization.  Therefore,  in  every 
place  where  their  hands  are  not  being  forced  by  the 
utter  disintegration  of  organized  religious  life,  the 
denominational  bodies  are  doing  their  utmost  to 
thwart  local  tendencies  toward  church  union,  to 
maintain  the  ascendency  of  theological  over  social 
interests,  to  prevent  the  capture  of  the  church  by 
the  community.     What  Catholicism  is  doing  in  its 


288  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

parochial  schools  is  only  an  extreme  illustration  of 
what  most  of  the  Protestant  denominations  are 
doing,  much  less  openly  and  efficiently,  in  their 
prayer-meetings,  Sunday  schools,  theological  sem- 
inaries, and  revivalist  campaigns.  They  are  de- 
liberately setting  themselves  in  opposition  to  the 
basic  democratic  interests  of  our  American  life. 
Active  as  a  divisive  force  in  a  free  society  strug- 
gling against  enormous  odds  for  the  realization  of 
universal  human  fellowship,  they  appear  more  and 
more  in  the  guise  of  a  great  conspiracy  against  the 
social  integrity  of  the  nation.  Infinitely  more 
serious  than  the  alien  groups  among  us,  set  apart 
from  the  common  understanding  and  the  common 
will  by  foreign  tongues  and  customs  and  modes  of 
life,  are  the  sectarian  churches  similarly  set  apart 
by  foreign  creeds  and  rites  of  worship  and  offices  of 
hierarchical  control;  for  the  alien  groups  remain 
fixed,  and  make  no  invasion  of  the  common  life, 
whereas  the  churches  are  constantly  seeking  to 
draw  men  off,  as  an  electric  plant  for  private  profit 
draws  water  off  from  the  flow  of  the  Niagara  river. 
The  whole  tendency  of  our  denominational  churches, 
in  other  words,  is  to  break  up  the  solidarity  of  our 
social  life,  and  thus  to  defeat  the  ideals  of  the 
republic.  Just  to  the  extent  that  these  churches 
are  true  to  themselves,  they  are  untrue  to  democ- 
racy. They  are  each  and  every  one  of  them  to  be 
described  as  antisocial.  What  a  thoroughly  intel- 
ligent and  aroused  community  consciousness  will 
do  with  these  private  institutions,  so  inherently 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  289 

subversive  of  the  public  good,  remains  to  be  seen. 
But  that  no  general  community  movement  or  re- 
ligion is  possible  until  these  agencies  of  private 
propaganda  and  interest  are  abolished,  or,  as  now 
seems  likely,  perish  of  their  own  desuetude,  is 
obvious. 

Ill 

Mention  of  a  community  consciousness  brings  us 
to  the  second  great  condition  in  society  today  which 
is  unfavorable  to  the  progress  of  the  Community 
Church  movement.  We  refer  to  the  obvious  fact 
that  we  lack  the  deep  sense  of  community  interests 
and  values,  without  which  the  Community  Church 
can  not  be  produced,  much  less  sustained.  ^^A 
church  of  this  kind,''  writes  Rev.  Harvey  Dee 
Brown,^  a  social  worker  of  long  and  successful 
experience  as  well  as  the  minister  of  a  community 
church,  "cannot  be  handed  down  to  a  modern  com- 
munity out  of  the  purposes  and  logic  of  an  older 
religious  and  theological  individualism.  It  must 
arise  from  the  people  themselves  out  of  their  new 
community  habits,  and  their  collective  human  re- 
lationships. Until  these  relationships  are  more 
careful  of  the  common  health,  more  just  and  dis- 
criminating, more  glad  with  social  fellowship, 
more  intelligent  and  more  symbolized  by  common 
act,  the  beautiful  and  righteous  communal  spirit 
which  will  establish  public  churches  for  its  self- 


^  In    his    pamphlet,    Sociological   Aspects   of   a   Community   Church, 
page  13.     See  above,  footnote,  page  276. 


290  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

recognition,  worship  and  expression,  cannot  arise. 
The  evolution  of  the  community  life,  both  its  body 
and  its  mind,  must  precede  the  birth  of  the  com- 
munity soul.  ^That  is  not  first  which  is  spiritual 
but  that  which  is  natural,  and  afterward  that 
which  is  spiritual.' '' 

That  we  lack  this  soil  for  the  growth  of  the 
Community  Church  is  evident  enough.  The  crass 
individualism  of  our  American  consciousness  has 
long  been  the  despair  of  those  who  have  come  to 
see,  with  Mazzini,  that  democracy  means  not  merely 
liberty  but  association.  At  bottom  we  do  not  know 
what  association  means.  We  are  suspicious  of  any 
attempt  to  develop  the  political  structure  of  society, 
either  national  or  international,  and  thus  enlarge 
the  area  of  socialization.  Our  industrial  life  is  a 
welter  of  contending  and  competing  groups,  tend- 
ing steadily  to  a  class  struggle  which  threatens  to 
engulf  mankind  in  economic  ruin.  The  whole 
social  and  international  crisis  which  is  upon  the 
world  is  due  to  nothing  so  much  as  a  failure  of  the 
creative  intelligence  of  the  race  to  organize  the 
forces  of  the  common  life  in  harmonious  and  coop- 
erative functioning.  It  is  not  that  people  are  bad 
and  need  to  be  made  good,  not  that  they  hate  and 
need  to  learn  how  to  love,  which  causes  the  present 
disorder  of  our  civilization.  It  is  rather  that  our 
social  machinery  is  disruptive  in  its  effect.  Men 
are  torn  apart  rather  than  united  by  the  instru- 
ments of  social  life.  The  channels  through  which 
the  goodness  and  the  love  of  people  can  flow,  and 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  291 

fulfill  themselves  in  friendly  social  relationship, 
are  hopelessly  choked,  or  else  have  not  been  con- 
structed at  all.  In  other  words,  we  have  as  yet  no 
real  community  life  on  either  a  small  or  a  large 
scale;  and  until  that  community  life  is  developed, 
we  cannot  hope  to  have  a  genuine  Community 
Church. 

Nevertheless,  we  need  not  be  discouraged.  On 
the  contrary,  there  is  every  reason  for  good  cheer; 
for  the  whole  trend  of  thought  in  our  time,  as  we 
have  seen,  indicates  that  the  individualistic  days 
are  passing  never  to  return.  We  are  coming  rap- 
idly to  the  knowledge  and  acceptance  of  society 
as  an  organism  with  a  single  life  and  destiny  for 
us  all,  as  the  guiding  principle  alike  of  thought 
and  action;  and  in  obedience  to  this  principle,  are 
more  and  more  learning  to  act  together  in  the 
common  service  of  the  common  good.  Our  Red 
Cross  Society,  our  public  health  and  recreational 
activities,  our  neighborhood  associations,  commu- 
nity councils  and  social  units,  our  political  and 
social  reform  agencies,  our  programs  of  economic 
reconstruction,  our  international  movements  for 
disarmament,  our  leagues  or  councils  of  nations, — 
all  these  are  so  many  expressions  of  the  dawning 
social  consciousness  of  this  stirring  age.  In  the  same 
way  are  these  the  creators  of  this  consciousness,  for 
^^the  finest  output  of  their  efforts  passes  into  the  soul 
of  the  community  in  whose  creation  they  thus  par- 
ticipate."^     A  vast  preparation,  therefore,  for  the 

^Harvey  Dee  Brown.     See  above,  footnote,  page  27d. 


^92  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

coming  of  the  Community  Church  is  under  way ;  the 
very  appearance  of  community  churches  in  increas- 
ing numbers  throughout  the  land,  is  itself  the  best 
kind  of  evidence  of  the  reality  of  this  preparation. 
But  such  evolution  of  community  thought  and  life 
must  pass  far  beyond  anything  which  we  know  or 
even  foresee  at  this  moment,  before  we  can  hope 
to  have  a  Community  Church  that  is  true  to  type — 
a  church,  that  is,  rooted  in  the  community,  main- 
tained and  managed  by  the  community,  and  de- 
voted wholly  to  the  interests  of  the  communal  life. 
It  is  the  rise  of  this  community  consciousness, 
with  its  inevitable  production  of  the  Community 
Church,  which  precipitates  the  question  as  to 
what  it  will  do  with  our  existing  denominational 
churches  when  it  comes  to  power.  How  can  it 
help  destroying  them,  if  they  still  retain  strength 
enough  to  constitute  a  menace  to  social  health? 
Twice  before  this  has  the  democratic  will,  lifted 
momentarily  to  an  exalted  consciousness  of  group 
interest,  annihilated  private  institutions  which 
were  living  at  the  expense  of  the  whole.  Chattel 
slavery  had  to  go,  and  the  liquor  traffic  had  to  go, 
in  the  name  and  for  the  sake  of  that  higher  "law 
of  liberty"  which  is  the  common  good.  Why  does 
not  denominationalism  belong  to  this  same  pariah 
class?  What  is  to  prevent  an  enlightened  and 
aroused  social  conscience  from  placing  it  in  this 
class?  "There  are  countless  ways  by  which  men 
in  a  free  country  may  encroach  upon  their  neigh- 
bors'  rights,''  said  William  Ellery  Channing  in 


THE  PRACTICAL  PEOBLEM  293 

1837/  "In  religion  the  instrument  is  ready  made 
and  always  at  hand.  I  refer  to  opinion  combined 
and  organized  in  sects  and  swayed  by  the  clergy. 
We  say  we  have  no  Inquisition.  But  a  sect  skil- 
fully organized,  trained  to  utter  one  cry,  combined 
to  cover  with  reproach  whoever  may  differ  from 
themselves,  to  drown  the  free  expression  of  opinion 
by  denunciations  of  heresy,  .  .  .  such  a  sect  is 
as  perilous  and  palsying  to  the  intellect  as  the 
Inquisition.  .  .  .  The  liberal  spirit  of  the  people, 
I  trust,  is  more  and  more  to  temper  and  curb  that 
exclusive  spirit  which  is  the  besetting  sin  of  their 
religious  guides.'' 

In  all  probability  the  progressive  disintegration 
of  our  sectarian  bodies  will  make  unnecessary 
drastic  social  action  for  their  abolition,  after  the 
example  of  the  slave-pen  and  the  saloon.  Yet  these 
bodies  inherit  vast  momentum  from  the  past;  their 
foundations  are  imbedded  deep  in  the  traditions 
and  affections  of  great  hosts  of  people;  and.  they 
possess  properties  of  enormous  magnitude  and 
power.  They  may  very  well,  therefore,  survive  in 
part  at  least  into  an  age  which  will  conceive  them 
to  be  not  only  scandalous  and  inconvenient,  but 
intolerable.  In  such  case,  would  not  society,  wide- 
awake to  its  basic  interests  of  unity  and  fellow- 
ship, be  obligated  to  expropriate  and  end  them? 
We  are  not  sure !  The  right  of  any  group  of  citi- 
zens in  a  democracy  to  combine  in  a  private  society 


*Iii   his   sermon    "Spiritual  Freedom."     One  volume   edition   of  his 
Works,  page  180.     See  above,   page  40. 


294  NEW  OHUECHES    FOB   OLD 

for  the  furtherance  of  private  interests  not  abso- 
lutely in  contravention  of  the  public  good,  is  unde- 
niable. The  recognition  and  protection  of  this 
right  is  the  one  sure  test  of  that  ^^liberal  spirit"  of 
which  Channing  speaks;  its  denial  or  limitation  is 
one  of  the  first  and  most  insidious  signs  of  tyranny. 
But  of  this  at  least  we  are  sure — that  the  social 
conscience,  when  it  matures,  will  ^^temper  and 
curb"  denominationalism  to  the  extent  of  stripping 
away  the  public  mask  which  now  conceals  its  pri- 
vate character.  The  sectarian  church,  for  example, 
will  enjoy  no  special  privileges,  as  for  example 
exemption  from  taxation.  Its  position  will  be 
practically  that  of  the  private  school  in  relation 
to  the  public  school.  Such  change  of  status  will 
perhaps  be  all  that  is  necessary  to  protect  society 
from  an  influence  ^^notoriously  sectarian,  and 
therefore  hostile  to  liberty."^ 

IV 

In  these  two  factors — an  imperfect  religious 
sense,  and  an  imperfect  community  sense — we  have 
the  chief  obstacles  in  the  path  of  the  advancement 
of  the  Community  Church  movement  at  this  present 
moment.  Equally  serious  in  kind  if  not  in  degree 
are  certain  objections  to,  or  criticisms  of,  the  move- 
ment, which  appear  in  many  minds,  some  of  them 
not  at  all  unsympathetic. 

Closely  analogous  to  the  problem  of  the  commu- 

» William  EUepy  Channing.    See  above,  footnote,  page  293. 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  295 

nity  consciousness  which  we  have  just  been  dis- 
cussing, is  the  objection  that  our  democratic  ma- 
chinery for  the  control  and  management  of  public 
interests  is  altogether  inadequate  for  such  a  task 
as  we  would  impose  upon  it.  This  objection,  of 
course,  has  its  primal  origin  in  the  hard,  cold  fact 
that  the  history  of  public  schools,  public  libraries, 
state  and  municipal  universities,  has  not  been  so 
conspicuously  successful,  from  the  standpoint  of 
community  welfare,  as  to  warrant  anybody  in 
urging  very  vigorously  the  surrender  of  our 
churches  to  public  control.  Inadequate  facilities 
for  our  school  children,  narrow  and  provincial  poli- 
cies of  administration,  intrusion  of  political  ignor- 
ance and  corruption,  suppression  of  freedom  of 
thought  and  speech,  prostitution  of  public  instru- 
mentalities to  private  uses — all  these  evils  are  too 
common  to  need  argument  to  show  that  new 
methods  of  democratic  functioning  must  be  devel- 
oped, if  the  way  is  to  be  made  clear  for  the  safe 
establishment  of  the  church  as  an  out-and-out  com- 
munity institution. 

Behind  this  objection,  however,  there  is  some- 
thing deeper  than  the  mere  facts  of  inadequate 
and  incompetent  control  of  our  social  interests. 
Fundamentally  at  work  here  is  that  constitutional 
distrust  of  the  American  mind  of  everything  that 
is  public  or  social  in  nature.  So  inwrought  in  the 
very  fibres  of  our  being  is  our  traditional  individu- 
alism that  only  recently,  as  we  have  just  now  seen, 
have  we  developed  any  social  consciousness  at  all. 


296  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

Utterly  remote  from  us  has  been  the  mind  of  the 
pagan  Greek  who  saw  in  his  city  the  sublimation 
of  his  life,  or  even  the  mind  of  the  Christian 
Augustine,  who  fashioned  his  immortal  dream  of 
the  future  after  the  pattern  of  what  he  called  the 
"City  of  God.''  The  result  of  such  an  attitude 
has  been  the  exaltation  of  the  individual  at  the 
expense  of  society,  and  of  private  initiative  at  the 
expense  of  public  experiment  and  adventure.  We 
have  neglected  our  social  responsibilities,  thrust 
them  away  from  our  attention  and  concern,  de- 
graded them  as  an  intrusion  upon  the  central 
things  of  life,  and  thereby  robbed  them  wantonly 
of  the  dignity  and  beauty  which  are  their  own. 
Contemptuous  or  impatient  of  them  ourselves,  we 
have  gladly  surrendered  them  to  those  who  en- 
joyed or  profited  from  their  manipulation,  and 
thereby  created  that  very  corruption  of  democracy 
which  now  we  offer  as  the  all-sufficient  justifica- 
tion of  our  conduct. 

It  is  true  that  our  social  machinery  is  inade* 
quate  for  the  tasks  it  has  in  hand,  to  say  nothing 
of  new  ones  to  be  added.  But  the  logic  of  this 
fact  is  not  the  withholding  or  the  withdrawal  of 
our  most  precious  interests  from  the  control  of 
the  social  group.  Are  there  any  who  today,  even 
under  the  worst  conditions  of  public  administra- 
tion, would  return  our  schools  to  private  hands, 
or  disendow  our  state  and  municipal  universities, 
or  close  our  public  libraries?  What  we  need  is 
an  ever  closer  and  more  exact  identification  of  all 


THE  PKACTICAL  PROBLEM  297 

our  private  interests  with  the  public  interest,  so 
that  the  community,  in  city,  state  or  nation,  will 
of  necessity  take  on  a  sanctity  so  wonderful  that 
we  will  feel  ourselves  bound  to  it  as  a  priest  to 
the  altar  of  his  God.  The  salvation  of  our  democ- 
racy is  to  be  found  not  in  the  restriction  of  its  opera- 
tions, but  in  their  extension  and  enlargement,  so 
that  the  first  and  not  the  last  concern  of  the  indi- 
vidual will  be  the  public  welfare.  It  is  the  old 
maxim  of  more  democracy  being  the  cure  for  the 
ills  of  democracy !  And  what  can  be  more  effectual 
to  this  end  than  the  deliberate  casting  in  of  the 
destinies  of  the  church  with  the  community?  Such 
change  would  not  be  without  its  price.  But  the 
church  would  register  for  itself  the  inestimable 
gain  of  socialization,  and  for  the  community  that 
exaltation  of  function  and  purpose  which  would 
in  the  long  run  save  its  life. 


A  common  and  very  practical  charge  brought 
against  the  community  church  movement  is  that 
it  represents  in  actuality,  if  not  in  theory,  the 
organization  of  one  more  denomination,  and 
thereby  discredits  the  very  principle  of  undenomi- 
nationalism  which  it  is  trying  to  foster.  Here 
is  a  movement,  it  is  said,  which  indicts  Protes- 
tantism for  its  sectarian  divisions.  It  denounces 
these  divisions  as  a  betrayal  of  the  religious  spirit, 
and  condemns  the  various  churches  of  the  Prot- 


298  NEW   CHUECHES   FOR   OLD 

estant  world  for  their  failure  to  unite  and  thus 
become  one  great  and  universal  embodiment  of 
the  spiritual  ideal.  Then,  as  the  very  first  step 
of  its  own  undertaking,  this  movement  which  so 
abhors  divisions,  proceeds  to  separate  itself  from 
all  existing  ecclesiastical  groups  and  set  up  another 
church  of  its  own.  Instead  of  overcoming  denomi- 
nationalism,  therefore,  the  Community  Church 
simply  adds  one  more  to  the  one  hundred  and 
sixty  odd  sects  which  now  make  the  Protestant 
world  a  realm  of  chaos  instead  of  order.  The  Com- 
munity Church  constitutes  its  own  best  refuta- 
tion ;  in  the  very  fact  of  its  organization,  it  undoes 
itself.  It  should  be  the  very  genius  of  this  move- 
ment to  work  inside  and  not  outside  existing  re- 
ligious bodies,  and  thus  by  some  such  action  as 
that  of  the  federation  principle,  which  is  now  so 
beneficently  at  work,  help  on  the  great  end  of  the 
unification  of  Christendom. 

The  answer  to  this  interesting  criticism  is  two- 
fold. In  the  first  place,  the  alleged  sectarian  char- 
acter of  the  Community  Church  idea  is  apparent 
rather  than  real.  It  may  be  that  in  certain  places, 
under  certain  conditions,  the  Community  Church 
must  take  on  the  form  of  a  new  denomination,  and 
thus  add  one  more  to  the  existing  number  of 
churches  in  one  community.  But  behind  this  Com- 
munity Church,  in  such  case,  is  a  new  principle 
of  organization  which  points  the  way  to  the  ulti- 
mate extinction  of  sects,  and  the  union  of  all  per- 
sons and  groups  into  one  great  religion.     The  de- 


THE  PKACTICAL  PROBLEM  299 

nomination  organizes  itself  apart  from  the  rest 
of  the  religious  world,  because  of  certain  ideas 
which  it  wants  to  propagate  or  certain  forms  of 
worship  which  it  desires  to  practice.  Even  where 
such  separatist  terms  are  not  emphasized,  there 
will  be  found  to  be  present  in  the  denomination 
at  least  a  certain  habit  of  mind,  or  way  of  think- 
ing, which  draws  a  certain  group  of  people  apart 
from  their  fellows  and  encourages  them  to  set  up 
and  maintain  their  own  private  religious  insti- 
tution. 

Now  the  Community  Church  breaks  absolutely 
with  this  denominational  principle  or  tendency. 
It  shifts  the  basis  of  organization  from  the  exclu- 
sive doctrine  or  ritual  or  type  of  thought,  to  that 
community  grouping  of  citizenry  which  constitutes 
the  essence  of  our  American  democracy.  It  makes 
its  conditions  of  membership  identical  with  those 
of  citizenship  in  the  city  or  town  in  which  it  is 
doing  its  work.  It  is  thus  in  character  an  inclu- 
sive and  never  in  any  sense  an  exclusive  body.  If 
it  exists  apart  and  builds  its  own  separate  shrine, 
it  is  only  because  the  religious  conditions  in  its 
particular  locality  are  so  hard  and  fast,  competi- 
tion between  existing  churches  so  fierce,  that  there 
is  no  opportunity  for  the  presentation  of  the  new 
idea  excepting  in  this  form  of  a  church  of  its  own. 
The  very  planting  of  this  institution,  however,  is 
the  first  step  in  the  disintegration  of  all  existing 
churches.  Little  by  little,  as  the  Community 
Church  commends  itself  to  the  people  and  its  idea 


300  NEW   OHUECHES    FOE   OLD 

of  inclusion  spreads  abroad,  denominational  bar- 
riers will  crumble,  sectarian  churches  lose  approval 
and  support,  and  thus  the  whole  base  system  of 
Protestantism  disappear.  Once  it  is  seen  that  the 
Community  Church  emphasizes  the  community 
and  not  the  church,  and  seeks  not  to  dwell  apart 
from  the  community  but  to  rise  out  of  it  and  from 
it  as  the  spiritual  expression  of  its  life,  then  it 
becomes  instantly  apparent  that  this  charge  of 
compromise  with  the  denominational  principle  is 
false. 

Secondly,  there  is  the  pragmatic  answer  to  the 
criticism.  The  great  majority  of  community 
churches  today  do  not  in  any  sense  represent  the 
organization  of  a  new  sectarian  group  added  to 
those  already  existing,  and  thus  contribute  to  the 
present  confusion.  It  is  only  in  certain  large 
cities,  where  the  Protestant  churches  still  retain 
some  strength  and  vigor,  that  the  Community 
Church  even  gives  the  appearance  of  taking  on  a 
sectarian  character.  Here,  to  a  certain  limited 
extent,  it  adjusts  itself  to  its  environment  as  the 
first  condition  of  survival.  In  all  other  places, 
however,  it  creates  its  own  environment  and  thus 
reveals  at  once  its  essential  spirit.  In  rural  com- 
munities, as  we  have  seen,  the  Community  Church 
represents  the  amalgamation  or  absorption  of  pre- 
viously existing  denominational  churches,  and 
thus  their  disappearance  from  the  field.  A  cer- 
tain town  in  upper  New  York  State,  which  five 
years  ago  had  a  Congregational,  a  Baptist,  a  Metho- 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  301 

dist,  and  a  Universalist  church,  and  today  has 
only  the  one  Community  Church,  is  a  good  ex- 
ample of  what  we  mean.  In  suburban  communi- 
ties, newly  built  and  organized,  the  Community 
Church  appears  literally  as  the  church  of  the  com- 
munity, and  denominational  churches  do  not  ap- 
pear at  all.  In  one  such  town  in  California,  it  is 
expressly  provided  in  the  charter  that  no  sectarian 
institution  shall  be  allowed  to  enter  and  acquire 
property  during  a  certain  term  of  years.  In  these 
communities  there  is  provided  a  habitat  in  which 
the  Community  Church  appears  at  once  in  its  fully 
developed  form,  and  in  which  therefore  we  can 
see  it  as  it  really  is.  Always  this  church  is  con- 
spicuous for  nothing  so  much  as  its  non-sectarian 
character,  and  from  the  moment  of  its  inception 
sterilizes  competition. 

VI 

A  third  criticism  of  the  Community  Church  is 
that  suggested  by  the  complaint  that  its  field  is 
narrow,  and  its  opportunity  of  usefulness  there- 
fore extremely  narrow.  ^^The  field  is  the  world," 
has  been  the  cry  of  Christendom  for  lo,  these  many 
centuries.  Now  comes  along  a  movement  which 
deliberately  undertakes  to  shut  itself  off  from  the 
world,  and  tie  itself  down  to  the  one  and  perhaps 
very  small  community  which  constitutes  its  locale. 
To  serve  the  life  which  is  close  at  hand — ^to  per- 
form our  nearest  duty,  as  Carlyle  was  never  tired 


302  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

of  emphasizing — is  of  course  a  basic  principle  of 
effective  action ;  but  to  limit  our  service  to  our  own 
doorstep,  so  to  speak,  is  to  rob  ourselves  of  that 
wider  field  of  opportunity  which  calls  to  us  with- 
out ceasing.  The  church,  of  all  institutions,  should 
be  universal  in  its  appeal.  Its  sympathies  should 
be  as  wide  as  the  circle  of  humanity;  nothing 
human  should  be  foreign  to  it.  In  thus  fulfilling 
its  world-wide  mission,  the  denominational  church 
surely  has  advantage  over  any  community  church 
whatsoever.  In  innumerable  towns  and  cities 
throughout  the  nation,  there  are  churches  of  its 
own  faith,  and  thus  members  of  its  own  family. 
In  neglected  wastes  at  home,  and  pagan  areas 
across  the  seas,  there  are  mission  stations  which 
carry  its  name  and  bear  its  message  of  deliverance. 
Wherever  there  are  men  it  goes,  and  there  dedi- 
cates itself  to  the  task  of  love. 

From  the  more  superficial  standpoint,  this  criti- 
cism seems  to  have  a  certain  impressive  validity. 
The  Community  Church  is  indeed  exactly  what  its 
name  implies,  an  institution  first  and  foremost  of 
the  community  in  which  it  stands.  Its  roots  strike 
down  into  its  own  soil,  and  it  breathes  the  air  and 
feeds  the  needs  of  its  own  especial  habitat.  But 
what  of  the  community  itself,  of  which  the  Com- 
munity Church  is  this  spiritual  expression?  Is 
this  community  limited  to  itself?  Does  it  exist 
only  for  itself?  Is  it  cut  off  from  contact  with 
other  men  in  other  places?  Does  it  know  nothing 
of  world-wide  needs,  and  hear  and  answer  no  cries 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  303 

from  distant  fields?  This  may  have  been  true  in 
years  long  since  gone  by.  The  word  "community'' 
still  has  a  certain  connotation  of  remoteness,  sur- 
viving from  the  time  when  town  was  separated 
from  town  by  long  stretches  of  forest  or  prairie, 
and  the  sea  cut  men  off  by  so  terrible  a  barrier 
that  such  a  seer  as  St.  John  felt  that  in  "a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth,''  there  could  be  "no  more 
sea."  But  all  this  is  of  the  past!  Our  world 
today  is  all  of  a  single  piece,  so  to  speak;  there 
are  no  longer  any  lost  communities.  We  are 
knitted  together  even  as  the  cells  of  a  single 
organism.  The  World  War  was  a  demonstration 
of  this  unescapable  unity.  An  ugly  political  quar- 
rel, breaking  out  in  a  remote  section  of  the  Balkans, 
set  all  Europe  aflame  in  a  fortnight,  and  ultimately 
engulfed  all  the  five  continents  and  seven  seas  of 
the  globe.  No  rai^e,  no  nation,  no  city,  no  remotest 
village  or  hamlet,  was  untouched  by  the  conflict. 
No  community,  in  other  words,  lives  any  longer 
unto  itself.  Each  is  bound  by  a  million  threads  of 
vital  human  interest  to  every  other  community 
throughout  the  world.  The  myriad  strands  of 
cable,  telegraph  and  telephone  wire,  the  railroad 
rails  and  steamship  highways,  and  now  the  invis- 
ible courses  of  the  air  which  belt  the  world,  are, 
as  it  were,  but  a  symbol  of  the  spiritual  bonds 
which  draw  us  together  and  make  us  one.  Now, 
if  never  before  in  history,  each  place  is  an  epitome 
of  the  whole  populated  earth,  as  each  man  is  an 
epitome  of  his  race.    To  plant  a  community  church, 


304:  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

therefore,  in  a  community,  is  to  plant  it  in  the 
world.  For  a  community  church  should  embody 
and  set  forth  at  one  and  the  same  time  the  spir- 
itual aims  and  purposes  of  its  own  community, 
and  thus  of  all  humanity.  What  mankind  needs 
and  dreams  of  and  passionately  strives  for  in  one 
place  is  the  same  as  in  every  other.  The  Commu- 
nity Church,  therefore,  is  the  one  church  which  is 
universal,  as  it  is  the  one  church  which  is  human- 
istic. The  Presbyterian  church  is  primarily  a  Pres- 
byterian church ;  the  Methodist  church,  Methodist ; 
and  so  on!  Each  represents  sharply  a  segment 
and  not  the  circle  of  the  human  race — each  is  a 
part  and  not  the  whole.  The  Community  Church, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  whole  in  the  sense  that  it 
embraces  all  mankind.  Here  for  the  first  time,  in 
this  system  of  community  organization,  do  we  find 
a  fulfillment  of  PauFs  vision  of  the  many  members 
and  the  one  body.  The  foot  is  doing  the  work  of 
the  foot,  and  the  hand  the  work  of  the  hand;  the 
ear  is  busy  with  hearing  and  the  eye  with  seeing. 
Each  is  in  its  appropriate  place,  and  engaged  at 
its  appropriate  task;  but  all  are  serving  the  one 
body,  and  together  they  constitute  the  body. 

As  for  missions,  particularly  those  in  foreign 
fields,  it  is  unquestionably  the  community  church 
movement  which  is  going  to  save  these  to  the  work 
that  they  are  really  appointed  to  do.  What  is  the 
weakness  of  missions  today,  and  the  real  threat  of 
their  speedy  disintegration,  if  not  that  scandal  of 
division  which  seems  an  even  more  flagrant  and 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  305 

inexcusable  betrayal  of  the  Christian  gospel  abroad 
than  at  home?  Presbyterian  missions  and  Baptist 
missions  and  Congregational  missions,  all  con- 
tending jealously  for  the  souls  of  Indians  or 
Chinese,  present  a  spectacle  which  would  be  inex- 
pressibly comic  if  it  were  not  so  tragic.  Think 
of  seeking  to  persuade  the  heathen  mind,  before 
you  know  your  own !  Under  the  pressure  of  fail- 
ure, appalling  economic  waste,  and  the  growing 
contempt  of  all  influential  opinion  in  foreign  lands, 
this  situation  is  rapidly  being  changed.  Theo- 
logical competition  is  yielding  to  cooperation  on 
the  basis  of  common  Christian  service.  Missions, 
in  other  words,  so  far  as  they  are  being  led  wisely 
and  intelligently  today,  are  becoming  unified  com- 
munity institutions.  Support  along  denomina- 
tional lines  is  more  and  more  an  embarrassment 
rather  than  a  help.  Which  means  that,  in  the  not 
distant  future,  the  Community  Church  will  be  the 
one  effective  "base"  for  the  mission  campaign! 

But  there  is  more  involved  here  than  the  mere 
matter  of  the  organization  and  support  of  missions 
for  their  work  abroad.  A  wholly  new  philosophy 
of  missionary  activity  has  come  to  the  fore  in 
recent  years,  and  is  rapidly  transforming  the  whole 
character  and  purpose  of  the  work  that  is  being 
done.  The  old  theological  type  of  mission,  dedi- 
cated to  the  task  of  saving  the  souls  of  the  heathen 
from  hell-fire,  is  no  longer  in  high  favor.  We  have 
come  to  see  this  traditional  undertaking  for  what 
it  really  is — an  impudent  intrusion  into  the  sancti- 


306  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

ties  of  the  alien  mind  which  can  do  little  good  and 
incalculable  harm.  Today,  therefore,  this  work 
of  converting  individuals  is  giving  way  to  the  more 
enlightened  work  of  developing  communities  to 
higher  standards  of  social  welfare  and  happiness. 
Whereas  the  old-time  missions  broke  up  the  native 
community  life  which  they  encountered  in  these 
strange  and  hostile  lands,  the  modern  mission  is 
seeking  to  foster  this  life,  and  thus  preserve  its 
essential  elements  of  good.  It  tries  to  do  in  a 
native  Asian  or  African  village  what  a  settlement- 
house  at  home  tries  to  do  in  a  city  slum — make 
friends  with  the  people,  protect  their  interests, 
guard  their  institutions,  purify,  beautify  and  enrich 
their  common  life.  Thus  a  mission  today  estab- 
lishes improved  conditions  of  sanitation,  intro- 
duces modern  methods  of  agriculture,  fosters  edu- 
cational and  cultural  influences,  builds  schools,  col* 
leges,  hospitals,  and  social  centers.  It  takes  the 
community  for  what  it  is,  and  instead  of  imposing 
upon  it  alien  teaching  and  rites  of  worship,  builds 
out  of  its  native  constituent  elements  the  best  that 
modern  knowledge  and  experience  can  provide. 
The  present-day  mission,  in  other  words,  is  an 
agency  not  of  theological  propaganda  but  of  com- 
munal idealism.  As  such  it  is  a  prophecy  of  that 
break-up  of  denominational  religion  which  is  every- 
where impending;  and  an  anticipation  abroad  of 
that  new  humanistic  religion  of  democracy  which 
is  everywhere  making  its  appearance  at  home.  Let 
there  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  relation  between  the 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  307 

Community  Church  and  foreign  missions.  In  so 
far  as  the  latter  are  destined  to  continue  at  all, 
they  will  be  the  natural  and  beneficent  instrument 
of  that  community  religion  which  seeks  brother- 
hood and  peace  the  world  around. 

VII 

A  final  objection  pertains  to  the  problem  of 
public  worship  in  the  Community  Church.  Is  it 
possible  that  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  can 
ever  be  persuaded  to  worship  together  in  a  common 
assembly  on  Sunday  morning?  The  population  of 
a  community  includes  atheists  and  theists,  agnos- 
tics and  believers,  Jews  and  Christians,  orientals 
and  occidentals;  in  the  bounds  of  Christendom 
alone,  it  comprises  such  highly  contrasted  types  as 
Roman  Catholics,  Methodists,  Quakers,  Unitarians, 
Christian  Scientists,  Second  Adventists  and  Holy 
Rollers.  Can  all  these  various  groups  be  expected 
to  find  a  common  spirit  of  understanding,  or  a 
common  medium  of  expression?  Does  it  not  seem 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  our  different  churches 
represent  not  so  much  different  ideas  as  different 
temperaments  among  men;  and  that  they  do  their 
work  along  separatist  lines  not  because  men  are 
obstinate  or  tolerant,  but  because  some  men  express 
their  religion  one  way,  and  some  another?  Why 
should  we  expect,  or  want,  to  persuade  men  to 
worship  in  one  kind  of  church,  any  more  than  to 
read  one  newspaper,  or  frequent  a  single  type  of 


308  NEW  CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

theatrical  entertainment,  or  enjoy  one  particular 
kind  of  art  or  music?  It  takes  all  kinds  of  people 
to  make  a  world !  Variety,  and  not  uniformity,  is 
the  source  of  life!  Think  of  the  mass,  the  "revi- 
val,'' the  prayer-meeting,  the  congregational  serv- 
ice, the  Quaker  "silence" — are  these  not  all  con- 
tributions to  man's  spiritual  experience,  and  do 
they  not  all  have  their  place  as  expressions  of  his 
inner  life?  Is  there  not  question,  after  all,  as  to 
whether  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  should 
worship  together;  and  very  serious  question  as  to 
how  such  result,  if  desired,  is  to  be  accomplished? 
The  difficulties  involved  in  this  query  are  so 
apparent,  or  seem  so  apparent,  that  few  students 
of  the  problem  have  attempted  to  do  more  than 
suggest  some  kind  of  working  compromise.  Tem- 
peramental differences  have  been  taken  for  granted, 
and  an  adjustment  sought  which  would  please  as 
many,  and  offend  as  few,  persons  as  possible.  One 
chasm  has  seemed  to  be  impassable — that  which 
separates  the  ritualist  from  the  congregationalist, 
the  high-churchman  from  the  low-churchman. 
Thus  Dr.  Irving  Maurer,  of  Columbus,  Ohio,^  pic- 
turing in  prospect  the  Community  Church  of  1974, 
describes  its  edifice  as  "in  reality  a  double  build- 
ing. A  sound-proof  tapestry  separated  the  church 
into  two  great  rooms,  one  of  which  was  rich  with 
religious  symbol  and  devotional  art,  the  other  of 
which  was  plain  and  simple,  without  painting  or 


»  See  his  pamphlet,  The  Church  of  Ood  in  Columbus,  published  by 
tlia  Commimity  Church  of  New  Yorl^  page  4. 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  309 

ornament.  The  first  room  was  intended  for  the 
ritualists  and  the  mystics,  and  the  second  for  the 
people  with  the  unpriestly  idea  of  religion.  The 
remarkable  thing  about  the  church  was  that  this 
great  tapestry  screen  could  be  raised,  and  that 
every  church  service  finished  by  the  two  rooms 
being  made  one,  with  common  music  and  a  common 
sermon.  Another  thing  you  would  (note)  through 
a  more  lengthy  observation,  was  that  there  were 
many  kinds  of  service  on  every  day  of  the  week, 
for  on  Friday  evening  the  Jews  would  begin  their 
celebration  of  the  Sabbath,  and  the  Seventh  Day 
Adventists  would  do  the  same,  and  on  each  day 
the  various  religious  conceptions  called  for  a  bewil- 
dering variety  of  ritual  or  order  of  worship." 

Some  such  compromise  as  this  would  seem  to  be 
unavoidable,  men  being  what  they  are.  But  are 
men  in  this  way  what  they  are,  or  rather  what  they 
seem  to  be?  What  such  an  ingenious  picture  as 
this  of  Dr.  Maurer's  really  visualizes,  to  our  mind, 
is  not  the  inward  temperamental  differences  of 
men,  at  all,  but  the  outward  chaos  of  religious 
practice  superimposed  upon  men  by  ignorance, 
superstition,  and  direct  ecclesiastical  teaching.  As 
long  as  men  insist  that  they  must  worship  in  a 
certain  definite  way,  in  order  to  satisfy  their  innate 
spiritual  demands,  the  rigor  of  the  democratic 
principle  in  community  religion  will  exact  that 
they  be  permitted  to  do  so.  The  rights  of  religious 
minorities,  in  other  words,  must  be  respected! 
The  Community  Church,  if  true  to  its  name,  will 


310  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

never  fail  to  give  full  and  free  opportunity  to  every 
group  of  persons  who  acknowledge  particular  rites 
and  ceremonies,  to  hold  their  own  services  in  their 
own  way,  not  outside  but  inside  the  common 
church.  The  Eucharist,  for  example,  unacceptable 
perhaps  to  the  majority  of  worshipers  in  commu- 
nity churches,  would  be  administered  at  special 
services  for  those  desiring  to  participate.^ 

When  we  get  behind  these  forms  of  outward 
worship,  however,  do  we  not  find  that  this  idea  of 
inherent  temperamental  differences  separating  men 
into  distinct  classes,  such  as  high  church  and  low 
church,  is  in  reality  fantastic?  Human  nature  is 
no  such  "Joseph's  coat  of  many  colors''  as  all  this ! 
There  are  varieties  of  temperament,  of  course,  and 
these  varieties  crave  and  thus  find  delight  in  dif- 
ferent modes  of  outward  and  visible  expression. 
But  they  appear  not  at  all  in  isolation,  in  single 
men  or  groups  of  men,  like  patches  on  a  quilt,  but 
all  together,  in  various  admixtures,  in  all  men. 
Human  nature,  in  other  words,  is  of  a  single  piece. 
One  individual  represents  not  one  separate  ele- 
ment, but  all  elements  thrown  together.  In  some 
of  us,  one  element  may  be  strikingly  predominant ; 
but  other  elements  are  all  the  time  present,  and 
may  on  occasion  spring  into  momentary  and 
startling  ascendency.  Most  of  us,  however,  have 
all  elements  strangely  compounded  within  us,  and 
are  subject  therefore  now  to  one  mood  and  now  to 


*A  community  church  in  California,  the  only  church  In  the  town, 
invites  an  Episcopalian  priest  to  come  at  intervals  to  administer  the 
sacrament. 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  311 

another,  according  as  one  element  or  another  takes 
control.  What  the  Community  Church  will  do,  in 
this  matter  of  worship,  will  be  to  offer  different 
kinds  of  public  services  at  different  times,  to  meet 
not  the  unchanging  needs  of  different  groups  of 
men,  but  the  changing  moods  of  all  of  us  together. 
Sometimes  we  will  rejoice  in  the  pomp  and  pag- 
eantry of  ritualism,  sometimes  in  the  simplest  forms 
of  congregational  worship,  sometimes  in  the  sooth- 
ing quiet  of  "the  silence."  All  these  the  Commu- 
nity Church  will  as  easily  provide  as  the  commu- 
nity or  municipal  repertoire  theatre  provides  regu- 
larly tragedy,  comedy,  romance,  farce,  and  opera. 
But  back  of  all  this,  as  the  central  expression  of 
the  spiritual  aspirations  of  the  community,  will 
be  what  must  be  created  as  the  English  Book  of 
Common  Prayer  was  created,  or  evolved  as  the 
Song  of  Roland  or  the  Niebelungenlied  was  evolved 
— a  Ritual  of  Communal  Devotion!  How  poor 
is  our  American  democracy,  that  it  has  developed 
in  poetry  and  song  no  formal  expression  of  its 
ideals  which  may  serve  as  "glad  tidings  of  great 
joy  for  all  the  people!''  How  pitiful  are  our 
struggles  to  express  fittingly  the  aspirations  of  the 
common  heart  of  man,  when  we  arrange  a  union 
church  service  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  or  assemble 
the  multitudes  on  Armistice  Day  or  the  Fourth  of 
July  for  a  patriotic  service  of  dedication !  Yet  are 
these  gropings  the  prophecy  of  what  some  day  we 
shall  have — a  Ritual  of  scriptures,  anthems,  re- 
sponses and  heroic  song,  wliich  shall  serve  the 


312  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE   OLD 

people  in  all  their  regular  exercises  of  devotion, 
as  the  mass  now  serves  the  Catholic,  or,  still  better, 
as  some  noble  pageant  serves  a  city  on  some  special 
occasion  of  memory  and  high  hope.  This  Ritual 
will  appear  in  due  time,  as  appeared  the  canons  of 
the  Old  Testament  and  New;  and,  as  the  expres- 
sion of  a  people's  life,  will  serve  them  in  their 
worship. 

VIII 

I  see  a  Sunday  morning  in  the  future,  with  all 
the  people  gathered  in  one  great  temple  for  devo- 
tion. They  come  gladly — ^young  men  and  maidens, 
old  men  and  children,  to  sing  and  pray  and  medi- 
tate on  high  things  of  the  spirit.  At  this  hour 
business  ceases  and  pleasure  is  unsought.  Houses 
are  empty,  theatres  closed,  books  and  newspapers 
laid  aside,  the  noise  of  the  streets  become  a  silence. 
The  Community  is  at  worship ! 

It  seems  a  fantasy.  But  living,  not  dead,  things 
are  in  this  church !  Scriptures  which  contain  Tol- 
stoi with  Isaiah,  Whitman  with  the  Psalms,  the 
words  of  Lincoln  with  the  words  of  Jesus!  An- 
thems and  hymns  which  sound  not  as  praises 
chanted  by  courtiers  to  a  king,  but  as  the  music 
of  a  people  singing  as  children  the  gladness  of  their 
souls ; 
"Each  singing  what  belongs  to  him  or  her,  and  to  none 


Singing    with   open    mouths    their    strong    mdodious 
songs."^ 


*Walt  Whitman,    "I  Hear  America  Singing." 


THE  PRACTICAL  PROBLEM  313 

Prayers  which  confess  not  fears,  ask  not  favors, 
cry  not  for  mercy,  but,  like  the  shout  of  multi- 
tudes, lift  the  heart  in  courage  and  deep  joy !  And 
a  sermon  like  John  Ball's  of  old,  which  tells  ^^how 
it  shall  be  when  the  measure  of  the  time  is  full,'' 
how  "the  Fellowship  of  Men  shall  endure,  how- 
ever many  tribulations  it  may  have  to  wear 
through,"  for  "fellowship  is  heaven,  and  lack  of 
fellowship  is  hell;  fellowship  is  life,  and  lack  of 
fellowship  is  death;  and  the  things  which  ye  do 
upon  the  earth,  it  is  for  fellowship's  sake  that  ye 
do  them;  and  the  life  that  is  in  it,  that  shall  live 
on  and  on  forever,  and  each  one  of  you  part  of  it."  ^ 
Here  speaks  "the  word  Democratic,  the  word 
En-Masse" ;  here  is 

"Life  immense  in  passion,  pulse,  and  power, 
Cheerful,   for   freest   action  formed   under   the   laws 
divine."^ 

It  is  no  fantasy  we  see!  Religion  is  now  the  peo- 
ple's own.  The  church  is  theirs,  and  with  one 
accord  they  take  it  to  their  hearts ! 


^  William  Morris,  The  Dream  of  John  Ball. 
'Walt  Whitman,  "One's  Self  I  Sing." 


CHAPTER  XI 
CONCLUSION 


^^The  true  Church  towards  which  my  own  thoughts 
tend  will  be  the  conscious  illuminated  expression  of 
catholic  brotherhood.  .  .  .  It  is  curious  how  mislead- 
ing a  word  can  be.  We  speak  of  a  certain  phase  in  the 
history  of  Christianity  as  the  Reformation,  and  that 
word  effectually  conceals  from  most  people  the  indis- 
putable fact  that  there  has  been  no  Beformation.  There 
was  an  attempt  at  a  Reformation,  .  .  .  and  through 
a  variety  of  causes  it  failed.  It  detached  great  masses 
from  the  Catholic  Church  and  left  that  organization  im- 
poverished intellectually  and  spiritually,  but  it  achieved 
no  reconstruction  at  all.  It  achieved  no  reconstruction 
because  the  movement  as  a  whole  lacked  an  adequate  idea 
of  catholicity.  It  fell  into  particularism  and  failed. 
It  set  up  a  vast  process  of  fragmentation  among  Chris- 
tian associations.  It  drove  large  fissures  through  one 
common  platform.  .  .  .  People  are  now  divided  by 
forgotten  points  of  difference,  by  sides  taken  by  their 
predecessors  in  the  disputes  of  the  sixteenth  century,  by 
mere  sectarian  names  and  the  walls  of  separate  meeting 
places.  In  the  present  time  as  a  result  of  the  dissenting 
method,  there  are  multitudes  of  believing  men  scattered 
quite  solitarily  through  the  world. 

The  Reformation   .    .    .   lies  still  before  us.     It  is  a 

necessary  work.     It  is  a  work  strictly  parallel  to  the 

reformation  and  expansion  of  the  State.    Together  these 

processes  constitute  the  general  duty  before  mankind.'* 

H.  G.  Wells,  in 

First  and  Last  Things 


CHAPTER   XI 
CONCLUSION 


Christianity,  as  it  first  appeared  in  Palestine 
and  was  carried  by  Paul  to  the  Gentiles,  is  the 
greatest  movement  for  human  emancipation  that 
history  has  known.  Its  advent  marks  the  dawn  of 
the  hour  of  most  auspicious  promise  that  ever  came 
to  man.  The  substance  of  this  primitive  Chris- 
tianity was  the  moral  passion  and  hope  of  Israel; 
in  all  that  properly  belonged  to  its  composition,  it 
was  Jewish  to  the  core.  Its  quickening  spirit  was 
the  personality  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  last  of  the 
prophets  and  himself  the  supreme  religious  genius 
of  all  time.  Its  gospel  was  the  "good  news"  of  a 
righteous  society  established  on  earth  as  a  brother- 
hood ordered  by  the  law  of  love  to  the  end  of 
peace — a  gospel  of  simple  human  relationships 
delivered  of  the  superstition,  formalism  and  racial 
exclusiveness  of  later  Judaism.  Its  field  was  a 
world  unified  by  the  conquest  of  Roman  arms  and 
the  discipline  of  Roman  rule,  and  by  its  own 
spiritual  failure  prepared  for  a  religion  which 
should  transform  an  empire  of  force  into  an 
autonomous  fellowship  of  good  will. 

817 


318  NEW  CHURCHES   FOR  OLD 

In  its  early  development,  the  Christian  movement 
seemed  to  be  the  seed  from  which  should  spring  that 
long-awaited  ^^tree  of  life  whose  leaves  were  for  the 
healing  of  the  nations.''  It  established  at  once 
within  itself  a  community  of  interest  and  ideal 
unparalleled  by  anything  that  mankind  has  seen 
either  before  or  since  that  time.  Here  were  joined 
in  one  family,  as  it  were,  Jew  and  Gentile,  rich  and 
poor,  citizen  and  alien,  bond  and  free;  the  divine 
dignity  of  souls,  and  their  fellowship  in  Christ, 
wiped  out  all  distinctions  of  race,  nationality,  sex, 
social  status,  and  made  the  church,  like  its  God,  to 
be  "no  respecter  of  persons."  These  Christians  were 
united  by  the  good  hope  of  "the  Kingdom,''  which  in 
their  eyes  was  no  future  paradise  in  heaven,  but  a 
new  society  close  at  hand  upon  the  earth.  They 
founded  and  maintained,  right  in  the  heart  of  Rome, 
scattered  groups  of  free  democracies  which  were  at 
once  a  challenge  to  the  empire  and  a  prophecy  of  the 
social  order  which  was  to  succeed  upon  its  overthrow. 
They  organized  a  community  of  goods,  that  no  man 
might  be  poor  and  none  rich,  but  all  be  equal  in 
need  and  opportunity  of  service.  They  welcomed 
to  their  fellowship  every  one  who  would  come,  to 
labor  and  suffer  for  the  better  day.  As  their  move- 
ment spread  from  city  to  city,  from  province  to 
province,  like  warm  life-blood  coursing  through  a 
perishing  organism,  it  seemed  as  though  Rome  were 
to  be  quickened  to  the  fulfillment  of  that  dream  of 
universal  brotherhood  and  peace  among  men  which 
has  been  in  the  hearts  of  all  true  prophets  since  the 


CONCLUSION  319 

beginning  of  the  world.  When  at  last,  in  the 
fourth  century,  after  indescribable  martyrdom,  it 
triumphed,  and  Rome  henceforth  came  to  signify  a 
church  and  not  a  state,  an  empire  not  of  the  sword 
but  of  the  spirit,  the  millenium  was  apparently  at 
hand.  If  postponed  by  the  break-up  of  the  political 
fabric,  it  was  only  to  find  surer  and  nobler  realiza- 
tion when,  in  the  collapse  of  civilization,  the  papal 
hierarchy  remained  as  the  sole  organization  left  to 
hold  society  together.  And  more  than  once,  in  the 
later  ages  of  medieval  rule,  under  inspired  and 
heroic  leadership,  the  church  seemed  about  to  enter 
upon  its  true  inheritance  of  the  unification  of 
humanity!  It  is  startling  indeed  to  contemplate 
by  how  narrow  a  margin,  and  by  force  of  what 
trivial  circumstances,  the  Roman  church  missed  its 
destiny.  It  had  the  idea  of  universality,  a  sound 
understanding  of  spiritual  fellowship,  the  vision  of 
a  world-state  which  should  be  the  church  visible  on 
earth,  and  at  intervals  the  statesmanship  capable  of 
realizing  its  farthest  hopes.  Furthermore,  for  a 
period  of  centuries,  as  though  by  some  divine 
appointment,  the  world  lay  ready  to  the  molding  of 
its  purpose.  But  chance,  and  at  last  corruption, 
balked  the  best  opportunity  that  mankind  ever  had 
to  unite  its  interests,  and  thus  avoid  the  strife 
which  has  made  the  modern  world  a  thing  of  horror 
and  dismay. 

II 
Many  forces  entered  into  the  spiritual  spoliation 
of  Roman  Christianity.      Ignorance,  superstition, 


320  NEW   CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

theologizing,  all  played  their  part;  but  the  domi- 
nant  influence  that  doomed  the  church  to  defeat, 
was  what  may  be  best  described,  perhaps,  as 
ecclesiasticism.  The  papacy  could  not  resist  the 
temptations,  nor  escape  the  corruptions,  implicit  in 
worldly  power.  Finding  itself  taking  the  place  of 
the  empire  and  exercising  its  functions  of  sove- 
reignty, it  little  by  little  became  the  empire.  It 
became  institutionalized  after  the  exact  pattern  of 
the  vast  political  structure  reared  by  Augustus  and 
his  successors.  The  divine  right  to  rule  was 
asserted  in  both  cases  in  the  same  terms.  The  pope 
assumed  the  role  of  the  emperor ;  the  cardinals,  of 
the  senators;  the  bishops  and  archbishops,  of  the 
provincial  governors ;  the  creeds  and  rituals,  of  the 
Roman  code.  The  free  democracy  of  the  primitive 
churches  was  supplanted  by  a  centralized  authority 
of  regal  type.  The  communal  poverty  of  early  days 
transformed  itself  into  a  wealth  which  outdid  the 
splendor  of  the  Caesars.  The  church  now,  like  the 
empire  before,  existed  not  to  serve  the  people,  but 
to  tax  them,  plunder  them,  exploit  them.  It  was 
an  institution  existing  for  its  own  ends,  and  there- 
fore eaten  up  by  lust  of  power,  luxury  and  ease. 
When  the  political  order  reappeared  as  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire,  the  papacy  devoted  all  its  energies 
to  struggle  with  this  new  rival  for  an  overlordship 
which  would  insure  it  in  perpetuity  the  temporal 
power  to  match  its  spiritual  power.  For  centuries, 
the  history  of  the  church  is  tlie  history  of  a  great 
and  corrupt  empire  of  this  world;  the  story  of  its 


CONCLUSION  321 

popes  is  the  same  as,  and  at  times  worse  than,  the 
story  of  most  kings  and  princes.  Before  the  blight 
of  eeclesiastieism  religion  withered  up  and  disap- 
peared, save  as  it  lived  on  in  certain  obscure 
heretical  groups  where  the  rule  of  the  hierarchy  did 
not  reach,  or  was  revived  in  the  sweet  piety  of  a 
St.  Francis  or  the  heroic  courage  of  a  Savonarola. 
It  was  the  Reformation,  born  of  the  Renaissance, 
which  rescued  Christianity  from  this  bondage  to  the 
w^orld.  The  great  gift  which  Protestantism  con- 
ferred upon  mankind  was  emancipation  from 
ecclesiastical  tyranny.  Finding  its  immediate 
occasion  in  a  revolt  from  the  hideous  corruption  of 
a  single  pope,  it  was  at  bottom  a  revolt  against  the 
whole  idea  of  external  authority,  made  inevitable  by 
the  intellectual  and  spiritual  awakening  of  the 
Renaissance.  Central  to  the  life  of  this  amazing 
period,  was  the  discovery  of  the  individual  soul  as 
set  over  against  institutions  of  every  kind  whatso- 
ever. It  was  democracy  at  work  in  its  first  great 
endeavor  after  freedom  and  the  rights  of  man. 
The  princes,  who  did  so  much  for  the  Reformation, 
were  aghast  when  they  saw  what  the  movement 
meant  to  the  common  people ;  they  would  have  been 
still  more  aghast  could  they  have  seen  to  what 
lengths  it  was  destined  to  go  in  later  centuries. 
But  they  carried  through  triumphantly,  and  with  a 
right  good  will,  the  battle  against  the  papacy.  The 
Reformation  at  least  ended  the  blight  of  eeclesiasti- 
eism, if  it  did  nothing  else.  There  were  reactions, 
to  be  sure,  when  the  reformers  found  it  necessary  to 


322  NEW   CHUECHES    FOE   OLD 

bring  order  into  the  chaos  of  revolt,  as  witness  the 
organization  of  the  Lutheran  church,  the  Anglican 
church,  and  other  centralized  ecclesiastical  bodies. 
Eomanism  also  made  an  impressive  recovery  of 
power  and  prestige.  But  the  work  was  done;  man 
was  free,  if  he  would  use  his  freedom.  What  was 
or  still  is  undone,  can  be  safely  left  to  time  and  to 
the  waxing  knowledge  and  experience  of  humanity. 

Ill 

But  Protestantism,  if  it  freed  mankind  from  one 
corruption,  brought  along  another  of  its  own.  In 
place  of  ecclesiasticism  it  put  not  religion  but 
theology;  for  the  tyranny  of  the  church  and  its 
ofllcers,  it  substituted  the  equal  tyranny  of  the 
creed  and  its  dogmas. 

The  theologizing  process  was,  of  course,  not 
unknown  in  Christianity.  It  was  at  least  as  old  as 
Paul  and  Augustine;  it  had  taken  form  in  Apostles', 
Nicene  and  Athanasian  creeds.  But  in  the  medieval 
period,  this  aspect  of  religious  organization  was 
subordinated  to  ecclesiasticism.  It  needed  the 
revolt  against  the  church,  and  the  resulting  search 
for  some  new  center  of  authority  to  save  the  race 
from  what  was  regarded  as  the  anarchic  conse- 
quences of  liberty,  to  bring  theology  to  the  fore,  and 
make  Protestantism  to  be  synonymous  with  de- 
nominationalism.  For  all  of  the  last  four  hundred 
years,  religion  in  Protestant  Christendom  has 
meant  acceptance  of  some  particular  type  of  theo- 


CONCLUSION  323 

logical  belief.  It  is  appalling,  if  not  positively 
amusing,  to  note  the  historical,  geological,  socio- 
logical, as  well  as  Biblical,  ethical  and  philosophical 
ideas  which  one  has  had  to  include  in  the  parapher- 
nalia of  his  mind,  in  order  to  qualify  as  a  Christian. 
By  some  happy  chance,  or  from  the  sheer  necessi- 
ties of  the  case,  it  became  possible  to  believe,  after 
the  discoveries  of  Galileo  and  Kepler,  that  the  earth 
moves  about  the  sun,  and  after  Columbus's  voyage, 
that  the  earth  is  round,  without  sacrificing  one's 
religious  character  and  standing.  But  until  com- 
paratively recent  times  no  acceptance  of  the  Chris- 
tian gospel  was  possible  without  simultaneous 
acceptance  of  the  story  of  the  Jews  as  set  down  in 
the  Old  Testament,  the  creationist  theory  of  the 
origin  of  life,  the  Davidic  authorship  of  the  Psalms, 
the  miracles  of  Jesus,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead 
(at  least  in  the  case  of  the  Nazarene),  and  a  phi- 
losophy of  history  based  on  the  central  idea  of  the 
Atonement;  and  even  today,  in  most  Protestant 
churches,  these  ideas  are  still  used  as  the  familiar 
test  of  spirituality.  They  are  at  least  as  generally 
characteristic  of  thought  inside  the  churches  as 
their  rejection  is  characteristic  of  thought  outside 
the  churches.  What  on  earth  such  questions  of 
temporal  fact  have  to  do  with  religion,  is  something 
which  might  well  baffle  the  fabled  wisdom  of  the 
ancients.  Bernard  Shaw  has  recently  pointed  out  ^ 
that  science  has  found  it  possible  to  believe  in  the 
law  of  specific  gravity,  without  necessarily  believ- 

*Iii  his  Back  to  Methuselah,  see  Preface,  page  LXXXIX. 


324  NEW   CHURCHES   FOE   OLD 

ing  the  story  that,  on  its  discovery,  Archimedes  ran 
wildly  through  the  streets  of  Syracuse  crying 
^'Eureka!  Eureka!''  Music  gives  its  laurels  to  a 
pianist  or  composer  without  inquiring  if  he  accepts 
the  legend  of  Mozart's  writing  of  his  "Requiem." 
No  Nobel  Prize  for  literature  has  yet  been  denied  to 
any  writer  because  he  questioned  the  Homeric 
origin  of  the  Iliad.  But  Protestantism  has  insisted 
upon  identifying  Christianity  with  questions  of  his- 
tory, Biblical  criticism,  and  biological  and  geologi- 
cal science;  and  thus  as  effectively  substituted 
theology  for  the  religion  of  Jesus,  as  the  medieval 
church  did  ecclesiasticism.  The  result,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  denominationalism  which,  with  its  multi- 
farious separation  of  men  on  issues  of  no  impor- 
tance, has  cast  a  blight  over  the  spiritual  conscious- 
ness of  the  race  quite  as  serious  as  any  cast  by  the 
papal  tyranny  of  Rome. 

It  is  this  situation  which  calls  at  this  moment  for 
a  new  reformation,  as  effective  in  its  attack  on 
Protestantism  as  the  Reformation  of  Luther  and 
Calvin  was  effective  in  its  attack  on  Catholicism. 
It  is  not  enough  to  correct  the  errors  of  orthodox 
theology  on  the  basis  of  the  latest  information  im- 
parted by  modern  scientific  studies.  This  is  what 
the  liberals  have  been  all  too  content. to  do,  on  the 
supposition,  apparently,  that  all  will  be  well  if  the 
Darwinian  theory  of  origins  is  substituted  for  the 
Mosaic,  and  the  conclusions  of  the  higher  criticism 
of  the  Bible  accepted  without  reservations!  What 
is  needed  is  something  much  more  fundamental  and 


CONCLUSION  325 

therefore  revolutionary.  We  must  get  rid  not  only 
of  theological  errors,  but  of  the  whole  theologizing 
process  itself.  We  must  disentangle  religious  ex- 
perience and  idealism  not  only  from  dogmas  that 
are  old  and  untrue,  but  from  the  whole  concept  of 
dogma.  The  method  of  Jesus  gives  us  our  example ! 
The  Nazarene  was  a  man  of  his  time,  and  accepted 
easily  the  prevailing  ideas  of  his  time — the  Mosaic 
theology  undoubtedly,  demonology,  the  Messianic 
philosophy  of  history,  and  so  on.  But  no  one  of 
these  ideas  was  central  to  his  spiritual  thought,  or 
ever  played  more  than  an  incidental  part  in  his 
teaching.  The  Gospels  could  be  rewritten  today,  in 
the  light  of  the  most  recent  information,  and  not 
affect  by  so  much  as  the  alteration  of  a  phrase  the 
basic  principles  of  his  religion.  The  same  is  not 
true  of  the  epistles  of  Paul,  for  the  apostle,  unlike 
his  master,  was  a  theologian.  But  Jesus's  mind  was 
free  of  the  whole  theologizing  method.  He  was 
concerned  with  life  and  not  with  thought,  with 
spiritual  experience  and  not  with  intellectual  opin- 
ions. So  with  the  churches,  if  they  are  to  be  faith- 
ful to  his  religion!  Theology  must  go  today,  as 
ecclesiasticasm  went  yesterday — even  that  theologi- 
cal remnant  which  sets  Christianity  apart  as  a 
separate  religion,  charged  with  a  mission  of 
peculiar  sanctity.  Religion,  as  the  spiritual  ex- 
pression of  the  higher  processes  of  human  life,  can- 
not in  the  very  necessities  of  the  case,  be  narrower 
or  less  inclusive  than  this  life  itself.  It  is  the  final 
condemnation  of  theology  that  it  tends  ever  to  make 


326  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

religion  a  contracted  and  thus  exclusive  thing,  and 
shut  men  oflf  from  contact  with  their  fellows.  To 
find  religion  is  always  to  find  unity,  and  therewith 
a  universal  fellowship  of  humankind. 

IV 

From  this  standpoint,  the  reformation  demanded 
by  our  age  may  be  summed  up  as  a  restoration  of 
primitive  Christianity.  As  the  great  Reformation 
went  back  to  Paul,  and,  getting  rid  of  ecclesiasti- 
cism,  secured  liberty,  so  this  new  reformation  must 
go  back  to  Jesus,  and,  getting  rid  of  theology,  secure 
fellowship.  It  must  seek  to  establish  throughout 
the  world  what  was  established  in  those  early  Chris- 
tian churches  in  ancient  Rome — a  solidarity  of 
human  interests,  a  brotherhood  of  men  bound 
together  in  love,  equal  not  only  in  rights  but  in 
duties,  dedicated  in  fellowship  to  the  bringing  in  of 
God's  Kingdom  on  the  earth. 

But  what  specifically  does  this  mean?  What 
does  first  century  Christianity  involve  in  the  society 
of  the  twentieth  century?  To  speak  simply  of 
brotherhood  and  love  does  not  carry  us  very  far! 
Says  Henry  D.  Lloyd,^  with  commendable  im- 
patience, "He  is  not  the  leader  who  tells  us  that  love 
is  enough,  is  all,  is  the  law,  is  life,  is  God.  He  is 
the  leader  who  guides  us  to  the  next  application  of 
these  thousands-of -years-old  truisms  in  the  affairs 
of  today.     He  is  the  wise  man  who  can  tell  us  what 


*In  Man  the  Social  Creator,  pages  10-11. 


CONCLUSION  32T 

answer  this  law  of  love  makes    ...    to  the  social 
life  of  our  time." 

There  were  difficulties  in  understanding  the  prac- 
tical aspects  of  solidarity  even  in  the  days  when 
Jesus  and  his  disciples  lived  in  the  open  and 
gathered  their  food  from  the  corn-fields  and  the 
lakes,  as  witness  the  question  about  "tribute  unto 
Caesar."  ^  These  difficulties  were  multiplied  when 
the  gospel  was  carried  to  the  cities  of  Asia  Minor 
and  Greece,  and  thus  brought  into  more  intimate 
contact  with  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  pagan 
empire,  as  witness  PauFs  truculent  injunction  that 
"every  soul  be  in  subjection  to  the  higher  powers 
.  .  .  for  the  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of  God."  * 
Even  so,  however,  the  task  of  love  was  simple  in 
those  far-away  days,  as  compared  at  least  with  the 
task  as  it  presents  itself  in  the  highly  complex 
civilization  of  modern  times.  What  does  Chris- 
tianity mean  in  a  world  of  railroads  and  steam- 
ships, telephones  and  telegraphs,  mills,  warehouses 
and  stock  exchanges?  How  is  one  to  effect  soli- 
darity or  practice  fellowship  amid  the  competitions 
of  modern  business,  the  struggles  between  capital 
and  labor,  the  indescribable  hatreds  and  suspicions 
of  international  relationships?  What  road  to  a  life 
of  love  is  open  to  a  man  who  is  caught  in  the 
intricacies  of  subways,  sky-scrapers,  tenements,  fac- 
tories, and  the  ever-present  overmastering  machine? 
The  problem  is  different  today  from  what  it  was  in 


»  See  Matthew  22  :17. 
*  See  JComaM  13  ;1, 


328  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

the  first  century  a.d.  The  humblest  man  encounters 
every  day  factors  of  experience  so  intricate  in  char- 
acter and  so  stupendous  in  range,  that  to  expect  him 
to  work  out  its  implications  and  imperatives  in 
terms  of  human  brotherhood,  is  almost  as  unreason- 
able as  to  demand  that  he  write  out  the  mathemati- 
cal formulas  of  the  Einstein  theory.  We  are 
caught  today  by  social  forces  which  we  do  not  yet 
understand,  and  certainly  have  not  yet  learned  to 
control.  Even  the  "leaders  of  the  people,"  so- 
called,  "such  as  bear  rule  in  their  kingdoms,"  ^  seem 
at  most  times  to  be  but  the  sport  of  titanic  winds 
that  sweep  the  world  as  though  from  cosmic 
sources.  If  we  could  escape  from  social  bonds,  and 
live  alone  as  hermits  of  old,  or  lose  ourselves  in 
separate  communities  of  the  type  of  the  early  Chris- 
tian churches,  we  might  learn  again  what  it  means 
to  enjoy  a  fellowship  with  men  that  is  quick  to  serve 
and  eager  to  forgive.  But  as  it  is,  we  are  caught 
like  fishes  in  a  net,  or  involved  like  cogs  in  a 
machine.  We  are  a  part  of  this  great  mechanism 
which  we  call  society;  and  if  love  cannot  be  so 
adapted  or  directed  as  to  be  made  to  function  effec- 
tively in  this  mechanism,  then  it  must  disappear 
altogether  from  the  world.  Ezekiel,  when  he  saw 
the  vision  of  the  four  wheels,  saw  living  creatures 
with  them.  "And  when  the  living  creatures  went, 
the  wheels  went  beside  them ;  and  when  the  living 
creatures  were  lifted  from  the  earth,  the  wheels 
were  lifted  up.     Whithersoever  the  spirit  was  to  go, 


^  Ecclesiasticus  44  :3. 


CONCLUSION  329 

they  went  .  .  .  for  the  spirit  of  the  living  crea- 
tures was  in  the  wheels.''  ^  Are  not  we  ^^the  living 
creatures''  of  the  prophet's  vision;  and  are  not  we 
challenged  to  put  the  spirit  of  man's  life,  which  is 
the  law  of  love,  into  ^^the  wheels"  of  this  vast  civili- 
zation which  now  run  wild  to  crush  us? 

In  the  answer  to  this  question  lies  the  definition 
of  the  specific  task  of  religion  in  this  terrific  day. 
We  need  a  reformation,  but  a  reformation  in  no 
such  general  terms  as  a  restoration  of  primitive 
Christianity — a  revival  of  simple  love  and  brother- 
hood and  peace.  The  new  reformation  must  be  a 
scientific  affair.  It  must  handle  the  business  of 
religion  as  a  technical  expert  handles  the  business 
of  production  in  a  factory,  or  of  distribution  on  a 
railroad.  We  want  not  only  abstract  ideals  but 
concrete  formulas — not  only  the  what  to  do,  but  the 
how  to  do  as  well !  This  means  the  detailed  work- 
ing out,  in  terms  of  modern  social  conditions,  of  the 
technique  of  solidarity.  It  means  the  mastery  of 
the  mechanics  of  love  or  fellowsliip  as  applied  to 
landlordism,  capital  and  labor,  commercial  ex- 
ploitation, economic  imperialism,  international 
war.  If  we  are  to  have  churches  which  are  to  live 
and  serve  society  as  effective  agents  of  spiritual 
transformation,  they  must  take  the  gospel  and  make 
it  as  vivid,  real  and  practical  a  thing  in  the  life  of 
twentieth  century  Yorkshire  and  Pennsylvania,  as 
it  was  in  the  life  of  first  century  Palestine  and 
Galicia.     They  must  gather  up  the  prophetic  power 


^Szekiel  1:19-20. 


330  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

of  all  the  emancipating  religions  of  the  past,  and 
harness  it  to  the  task  of  so  refashioning  the  existing 
social  fabric  as  to  make  it  as  easy  to  serve  and  uplift 
a  fellow-creature  as  it  is  easy  now  to  exploit  and 
overcome  him.  The  Luther  of  our  time  will  be  a 
social  engineer,  who  will  do  for  love  in  programs  of 
social  change  what  his  immortal  predecessor  did  for 
faith  in  creeds  of  theological  belief. 


Our  reformation,  therefore,  means  socialization 
of  religion  in  terms  of  modern  life.  The  obverse 
side  of  this  reformation  is  of  course  a  social  revo- 
lution which  will  constitute  the  "Christianizing  of 
the  social  order,"  to  quote  Walter  Rauschenbusch's 
phrase,  or,  as  we  choose  to  call  it,  more  inclusively, 
the  moralization  or  spiritualization  of  this  order. 

If  religion,  as  organized  in  the  existing  churches, 
has  no  social  message  to  tell  us  what  solidarity  or 
fellowship  means  today,  so  society  in  turn  has  no 
spiritual  ideal  to  direct  its  action  to  humane  ends. 
We  are  smashing  on  with  breathless  haste  and 
exhausting  energy,  making  goods,  selling  them  and 
thereby  making  money,  reinvesting  money  to  make 
more  goods,  selling  these  to  make  more  money  to 
reinvest — and  so  on,  world  without  end !  But  are 
men  happier  than  they  were ;  or,  in  any  true  sense, 
richer?  Have  they  found  "the  more  abundant  life'^ 
in  proportion  to  their  more  abundant  production 
and  distribution  of  material  things?     On  the  con- 


CONCLUSION  331 

trary,  were  they  ever  so  poor,  so  wretched,  so  dis- 
tracted, so  close  to  madness,  and  the  great,  proud 
edifice  of  their  building  so  close  to  complete  col- 
lapse? The  absence  of  moral  purpose,  of  spiritual 
vision,  from  most  that  men  have  been  so  feverishly 
doing  these  last  few  hundred  years,  is  the  consum- 
mate and  perhaps  fatal  tragedy  of  this  age.  Only 
one  thing  has  shown  that  the  soul  of  man  still  lives. 
Only  the  momentum  of  one  great  passion  has  kept 
society  in  motion  to  some  goal.  We  refer  to  the 
great  movement  of  democracy,  sweeping  on  through 
the  last  three  centuries  from  triumph  to  defeat,  and 
then  again  to  triumph.  This  is  the  revolution! 
This  also,  brought  to  conscious  spiritual  life,  is 
religion — ^the  only  real  religion  that  we  have;  and 
hence  in  itself  the  reformation  that  we  seek. 


VI 

Democracy,  by  which  we  mean  ^^the  spirit  of  the 
Universal  and  Beloved  Community,"  ^  is  therefore 
the  religion  of  this  age.  It  is  thus  also  the  unit  of 
integration  of  our  new  faith.  Churches  hitherto 
have  been  organized  around  an  ecclesiastical 
formula,  or  a  theological  belief.  In  the  one  case, 
has  been  the  priest;  in  the  other,  the  creed.  For 
both  now  is  substituted  the  community,  which  shall 
be  henceforth  the  only  church  that  we  may  know. 
This  involves,  as  we  have  just  now  seen,  a  reciprocal 


»Joslah    Royce,   In   The  Prohlem   of  Christianity^  volume  II,   page 
.428.     See  above,  page  XIX. 


332  NEW   CHUECHES    FOR   OLD 

relationship  of  change.  In  attempting  to  save  the 
church  as  a  social  institution,  by  organizing  it  anew 
on  the  basis  of  solidarity,  we  are  thereby  helping  to 
save  humanity.  By  bringing  the  church  back  to 
love,  in  other  words,  we  are  bringing  love  back  to 
society.  But  also,  in  saving  society,  we  are  saving 
the  church ;  the  revolution  is  the  reformation !  For 
we  can  have  no  true  church  until  we  have  a  true 
society — no  community  religion  until  first  we  have 
a  community. 

This  means,  for  our  present-day  task,  an  exact 
reversal  of  the  historic  method  in  religion  from 
antiquity  until  now.  "The  first  shall  be  last,  and 
the  last  shall  be  first !"  Hitherto  the  church  has 
been  the  direct  objective — an  end  in  itself.  It  has 
been  imposed,  as  an  institution  of  divine  origin  and 
commission,  upon  society  for  its  guidance  and  upon 
men  for  their  salvation.  Now  society  takes  the 
place  of  prime  importance;  it  is  among  men,  and 
not  in  the  church,  that  God  is  to  be  found !  Our 
spiritual  task  thus  becomes  the  establishment  of 
human  fellowship,  the  organization  of  love  to  the 
creation  of  solidarity.  We  must  build,  that  is,  a 
community — a  community  as  wide  as  the  world,  as 
inclusive  as  mankind.  Then,  out  of  this  com- 
munity, as  a  flow^er  springing  from  a  fruitful  stem, 
will  come  the  church ;  or  rather  the  community  itself 
will  become  the  church,  as  the  plant  becomes  the 
blossom,  in  evidence  of  the  fulfillment  of  its 
destined  life.  For  the  true  church  is  the  com- 
munity at  worship.     It  is  the  glad  gathering  of  men 


CONCLUSION  333 

in  celebration  of  their  fellowship,  and  in  dedication 
of  it  to  high  uses. 

The  day  will  come  when  social  struggles  are  no 
more,  when  "wars  and  rumors  of  wars''  are  passed 
away,  when  race  prejudice  is  become  the  memory 
of  an  evil  time.  Then  fear  will  be  gone  from  out 
men's  hearts — and  with  fear,  its  spawn  of  suspicion, 
hate  and  death.  For  ill-will  there  will  be  good- will, 
for  dissension  unity,  and  for  strife  the  reign  of 
peace.  And  men  in  that  day  will  live  as  brothers  of 
one  family,  and  work  happily  together  for  the  com- 
mon good.  There  will  be  a  community  on  earth ;  the 
community  at  its  moments  of  highest  life  will  be  a 
church ;  this  church,  and  therefore  this  community, 
will  be  the  presence  of  the  everliving  God. 


APPENDIX 


I 


"This  is  a  task  which  seems  to  me  not  unworthy  of 
those  who,  through  the  life  of  the  spirit,  have  wider  rela- 
tions with  the  universe — ^this  lay  church  which  today, 
more  than  any  other,  preserves  its  faith  in  the  unity  of 
human  thought  and  believes  that  all  men  are  sons  of  the 
same  leather." 

BOMAIN  ROLLAND,  in 

Above  the  Battle 


APPENDIX 

Several  attempts  have  been  made  to  summarize  the  distinctive 
characteristics  of  the  Community  Church.  We  present,  here- 
with, the  following: 

(a)     By  John  Hatnes  Holmes 

The  Community  Church  is  an  attempt  to  apply  democracy 
to  the  field  of  religion. 

Democracy  means  the  association  of  free  men  and  women 
in  the  spirit  of  fellowship  to  the  end  of  the  common  service 
of  the  common  good. 

The  unit  of  democratic  organization  is  the  community;  and 
the  agents  of  democratic  action  are  those  public  institutions, 
such  as  the  school,  the  library,  the  social  center,  through  which 
the  community  functions. 

Among  these  public  agents  in  each  community  should  be  the 
church  which,  when  organized,  will  be  known  as  the  Community 
Church. 


The  Community  Church  is  undenominational.  It  eliminates 
affiliation  with  any  sectarian  body  whatsoever,  in  favor  of 
identification  with  the  community  in  which  it  is  placed. 

The  Community  Church  is  public.  It  accepts  the  universality 
of  the  religious  instinct,  and  welcomes  all  men,  regardless  of 
sect,  class,  nation  or  race,  on  a  basis  of  membership  identical 
with  that  of  citizenship  in  the  community. 

The  Community  Church  is  free.  It  recognizes  no  creed,  or 
statement  of  faith,  but  leaves  all  matters  of  theological  belief 
to  the  unfettered  thought  and  conviction  of  the  individual. 

The  Community  Church  is  social.  It  interprets  religion  in 
337 


338  NEW  CHURCHES    FOR   OLD 

terms  of  social  service,  and  dedicates  its  members  to  the  ful- 
fillment of  social  idealism. 

The  Conmrunity  Church  is  democratic.  It  is  organized  on 
a  basis  of  self-determination;  recognizes  a  single  constituency 
of  members  who  are  voters ;  and  places  its  aJBf airs  in  the  hands 
of  a  board  of  managers  responsible  in  all  things  to  the  con- 
gregation. 


The  Community  Church  is  the  community  functioning  spirit- 
ually. It  emphasizes  the  community,  not  the  church,  as  the 
source  of  religious  life,  and  itself  as  a  free  agent  for  the 
expression,  not  the  control,  of  this  life. 


(b)    By  John  Hatnes  Holmes 

The  Community  Church  is  an  institution  of  religion  dedi- 
cated to  the  service  of  humanity.  It  is  distinctive  from  other 
churches  as  follows: 

1.  It  substitutes  for  loyalty  to  the  single  denomination, 
loyalty  to  the  social  group.  Its  first  affiliation  is  not  with 
any  denomination,  but  with  the  community  as  a  whole. 

2.  It  substitutes  for  a  private  group  of  persons  held  together 
by  common  theological  beliefs  or  viewpoints,  the  public 
group  of  citizens  held  together  by  common  social  interests. 
It  excludes  none  but  welcomes  all,  regardless  of  sect, 
class,  nation  or  race,  on  a  basis  of  membership  identical 
with  that  of  citizenship  in  the  community. 

3  c  It  substitutes  for  restrictions  of  creed,  ritual,  or  ecclesi- 
astical organization,  the  free  spirit.  It  relegates  all  matters 
of  theology  and  worship  where  they  belong — to  the  un- 
fettered thought  and  conviction  of  the  individual. 

4.  It  substitutes  for  the  individual  the  social  group,  as  an 
object  of  salvation.  It  interprets  religion  in  terms  of  social 
reconstruction,  and  dedicates  its  members  to  the  fulfill- 
ment of  social  idealism. 


APPENDIX  339 

5.  It  substitutes  for  Christianity  as  a  religion  of  special 
revelation,  the  idea  of  universal  religion.  It  regards  the 
religious  instinct  as  inherent  in  human  nature,  and  all 
religions  as  contributions  to  the  fulfillment  of  man's 
higher  life. 

6.  It  substitutes  for  the  theistic,  the  humanistic  point  of 
view;  for  absorption  in  the  next  world,  dedication  to  a 
better  life  in  this  world;  for  the  church  as  a  sacred  insti- 
tution, the  idea  of  present  society  as  fulfilling  the  ^'King- 
dom of  God" — the  commonwealth  of  man. 

The  Community  Church  is  the  practical  acknowledgment 
of  religion  as  the  Spirit  of  Love  incarnate  in  human  fellow- 
ship. The  core  of  its  faith,  as  the  purpose  of  its  life,  is  "the 
Beloved  Community." 


(c)     By  Harvey  Dee  Brovtn,  associate  minister  of  the 
Community  Church  of  New  York 

1.  The  basis  of  the  Community  Church  is  the  community  in 
which  it  lives.  It  springs  from  the  community  and 
expresses  the  life  of  the  community.  Membership  in  the 
church  is  on  the  same  basis  as  membership  in  the  com- 
munity— namely,  citizenship. 

2.  The  home  of  the  Community  Church,  its  buildings,  oflSces 
and  equipment,  will  be  owned  by  the  community  as  the 
schoolhouse,  public  library,  or  city  hall;  and  the  control 
and  management  of  the  church  will  be  by  the  community, 
democratically  administering  its  affairs  according  to  the 
will  of  all  the  people. 

3.  The  message  of  the  Community  Church  will  deal  with  the 
interest  of  the  community  and  the  problems  which  con- 
front its  common  life.  The  message  may  deal  with  philo- 
sophical or  even  theological  matters,  but  if  so,  it  will  be 
because  the  interest  of  the  community  moves  in  this  field 
and  the  people  desire  to  have  these  things  discussed. 


340  NEW   CHURCHES   FOR   OLD 

4.  The  work  of  the  Community  Church,  apart  from  its  meet- 
ings and  teachings,  will  be  the  promotion  of  the  welfare 
of  the  community  in  its  various  phases.  The  community 
itself  will  determine  the  things  it  desires  to  have  done 
and  also  the  ways  in  which  they  shall  be  carried  on.  In 
this  and  elsewhere  the  will  of  the  community  democrati- 
cally expressed  shall  be  paramount  and  controlling. 


(d)     By  Joseph  E.  MoAfee,  author  of  Religion  and  the 
New  American  Democracy 

The  Commfunity  Church  seeks: 

To  express  the  common  religious  consciousness.  It 
recognizes  that  all  are  religious  by  virtue  of  their  being 
human,  and  all  have  the  right  and  duty  to  express  their 
religious  nature  sincerely.   It  is  universal, 

.  To  insure  liberty  of  thought  and  speech.  It  recognizes 
that  questions  of  doctrine  and  of  personal  religious 
experience  are  properly  matters  of  individual  concern,  to 
be  socially  tested  only  by  their  product.   It  is  free. 

.  To  enlist  all  in  the  service  of  the  common  good.  It  recog- 
nizes the  universal  individual  obligation  in  social  welfare, 
and  seeks  to  point  out  an  avenue  of  usefulness  to  each 
member  of  the  community.  It  is  (a  moral)  dynamic. 

,  To  effect  a  religious  organization  amenable  to  the  will 
of  the  community.  However  initiated  or  maintained,  it 
recognizes  that  each  person  must  have  a  share  in  the 
organization  untrammeled  by  aught  but  his  own  desire, 
that  the  ultimate  control  properly  belongs  to  the  entire 
population  unit  concerned,  and  not  to  a  selective  group. 
It  is  democratic. 


(e)     By  Henry  E.  Jackson,  author  of  Z  Community  Church 
The  cardinal  virtues  or  distinguishing  characteristics  of  a 
Community  Church  are  as  follows: 


APPENDIX  341 

1.  Freedom  from  the  domination  of  dogma,  substituting 
intelligence  for  it. 

2.  Freedom  from  the  domination  of  money,  substituting 
character  for  it. 

3.  Freedom  from  the  domination  of  sectarianism,  substi- 
tuting brotherhood  for  it. 

4.  Freedom  to  liberate  and  make  known  the  religion  of 
Jesus,  recognizing  it  whether  labeled  by  his  name  or  not. 

5.  Freedom  to  serve  the  community  rather  than  itself,  losing 
its  life  as  an  organization,  if  need  be,  for  the  sake  of 
the  cause. 

6 .  Freedom  to  organize  democratically  with  the  right  of  self- 
determination,  each  member  having  one  vote. 

7.  Freedom  to  work  for  whatever  concerns  human  welfare, 
abolishing  the  distinction  between  sacred  and  secular. 


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